


The Sacrifices We Make: Consequences of Choice

by Enchant



Series: Two Wardens Are Better Than One [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: 6 chapters til this fic is finished!, A horde to kill and all that, Acts Of Desperation, Adventure, Alistair is back baby, And More Blood Magic, And a Crazy Dalish Elf, And a bunch of Walking Trees, And gore, And learning to play Wicked Grace, Anders and Oghren banter, Anders is still here and flirting though, Anders' Electricity Trick, Antivan Adventures, Approaching The End Now, Are they dead?, Arguments, Arietta Kicking Ass, Arson, At fucking last, Barkspawn is the best dog ever, Battle Stuff, Best Friends, Blood and Gore, Bloody Blood Magic, Breakfast, Chapter 46 is literally just smut, Circle Mages Making Love For The First Time, Coline crushing on Nate, Come At Me, Comment and befriend me and get personalised teasing on the house, Crows everywhere, Darkspawn OCs, Darkspawn don't understand the word shortcut, Darkspawn everywhere, Darkspawn getting drunk, Definitely would have preferred the dragon, Doesn't Matter Got Sex, Drinking & Talking, Drinking to Cope, Drinking was a bad idea, Drunk Sex, Drunk Story Telling, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Especially to Flabby Eight Tits, Everybody scared of Neri, F/F, F/M, Finally The Secret Is Out, Finally some happy stuff, Finally some more Zev stuff, First Kiss, First Warden be trippin, Fluff and Humor, Fo reals this time, Found The Orlesian Silks, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Fuzzy story, Gate crashers are especially annoying, Gen, Ginger problems, Goodbye Amaranthine, Goodbye Sex, Goodbyes, Grey Warden dinners, Group discussions, He has such lovely lips, Healer Down, Hello Amaranthine, Him and his little apprentice are so cute, His right and left hands got sticks up their arses, Hopefully it's hot, Hungover darkspawn, I guess this is it?, I hope they're not dead, I let him go, I swear it, I'm never drinking again, I'm not a blood mage, If you go down to the woods today you're sure of a big surprise, In love with two men, It's not about size but what you do with it, Just Like Another 30k, Justice Walking Around In My Besties Body, Kinky sex, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Massage, More angst, Morning After, Morning Sex, Multi, Mystery, Nathaniel Bit Off More Than He Can Chew, Neri could really use a hug right about now, Neri feeding Anders grapes, Neri gets tied to a chair, Neri is probably using blood magic again, Neri needs a hug, Neri's Force Magic Trick, Neri's pestering Justice again, Never Have I Ever, New Faces, No Eyebrows, Nobles Nobles Everywhere, Nobody Likes Olivia, Not More Orlesians, Not so much when they sniff your underwear though, OGB shenanigans, Off to fight the Mother, Off to find Orlesian Silks, Oh Riki Does, Oh he's off again, Old flame back in the picture, On The Hunt, One year anniversary!, Or sex, Orlesian Wardens, Orlesians, Out In The Bloody Sun Again, Picking on Oghren some more, Pity bacon, Plotting an assassination, Politics, Poor Spirit, Prezzies!, Reunions don't always go smoothly, Riding Crops, Road block, Romance, Sabotage, Sad Anders, Seduction, Sex Magic, Sex will work, Sigrun and Oghren flirting, Slash, Slow Dancing, Smut Next Week, Smutty chapter 41, Some Slash, Sort of smutty morning after, Special Brew, Stinks Like A Trap, Strip Tease, Suicidal Thoughts, Talking Darkspawn, Talking darkspawn are adorable, Tea with the enemy, The Architect Is Disappointed, The BlackMarsh Is Pants, The Joining, The King Is In the House, The Royal Wedding, The Talk, The son of the man I hate and killed is in my dungeon, Thief! Not really it's just Nate., Time for smut, Tooth Achingly Sweet Smut, Turns Out, Unhappy Orlesian, Walking head first into a trap is not better than running, Warden Detectives, Wasted Cuppa, Wedding Jitters, Where is everyone?, Why are there Templars outside? I'm too hungover for this shit, Wordcount: 100.000-150.000, Wordcount: Over 200.000, Worst Hitch hikers ever, YOLO, Yes that's right Darkspawn, Zev Is Back!, depressing shit, everyone's crying, fun times, look at him fetching soggy boots and shit, lore breaker, lots of fighting, night off, nightmare or prophecy?, or when they look through your kama sutra books, so cute, that's probably what happened to all of the Anderfels trees, there is a mirror too, weisshaupt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 71
Words: 296,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2051058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchant/pseuds/Enchant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hero Queen of Ferelden and her best friend, Surana the Slayer, may have ended the Blight together but there are still threats around every corner. What happens when one of the Wardens arrives at the Keep early, before the attack? Not a simple retelling of either game. Will include the royal wedding, Awakening and eventually DA2. Rated M for violence, sex and language.</p><p>Included the main tags for the whole fic, other stuff will be updated along the way (as and when I remember to :P)</p><p>There is absolutely no need to read the 'first part' of this series, Sacrifices is completely stand alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Laurel and the Hound.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to give a massive thank you to my two lovely beta readers ElyssaCousland and lisakodysam as they are incredible. I hope you all enjoy this story, and feedback is not only welcomed but encouraged; I'm a chatterbox and could talk about DA for hours, just ask my betas :D

 

 My Surana, Neri for those who are curious.

We will have to pretend there are pointed ears poking out of all that hair, yes? 

 

 [ ](http://imgur.com/g4Jzkac)

 

 

 

  _… Three months after the Archdemon was slain._

 

Neri Surana slipped past another servant as she zigzagged her way through the maze of chairs and tables laid out in front of her.

"And where d'yah think  _you're_  going, elf?" a woman with neatly pulled back grey hair snapped. "Get the name cards, at once!" She wagged a wrinkled finger at Neri's face.

Neri frowned slightly and gawked at her.

The woman snapped her fingers, her grey eyes narrowing in annoyance. "You 'ave ears big enough for all tah see! Yah deaf, girl?"

Neri shook her head, still not quite believing what this woman was saying to her. "I'm not a servant," she blurted with a quirked eyebrow.

The woman scowled and ran her shrunken eyes up Neri's petite body. "What are yah, then?" she mused, with a hand on her hip.

"Uhhh, the maid of honour?" Neri stammered.

In fairness, Neri was only in a simple cotton shirt, a boiled leather jerkin, some plain linen breeches and buff coloured boots. She didn't look very important.

The woman's mouth fell open, revealing her yellow crooked teeth. "B-begging yah pardon, m'lady! You ain't nothin' like they said at all."

Neri craned her head to the side. "And what did  _they_ say?"

"Ten feet tall they said you was, with glowing red eyes, and always dressed in the hide of tha' beast you slew." The wrinkles on her neck shifted slightly as she swallowed thickly.

A smile touched Neri's lips. She had spread the rumours herself. She hated being recognised and gawked at, although being mistaken for a servant was almost as bad.

"Ah, that's only when I'm fighting." Neri leant closer to the woman. "Lucky for you, today's my day off." She smiled sweetly. "Talk to any elf like that again and you will regret it," she uttered with a forced grin on her face.

She left the stuttering woman and continued to meander through the endless seats and tables. They were all beautifully decorated: each table was clothed in white, and at their centres, a beautiful bouquet of white and yellow lilies. Above her, stretching across the marquee's ceiling, was a net of daisy chains forming the image of two griffons intertwined together – a not-so-subtle nod to the royal couple. There was of course a large stage for the band and a long table for the new king and queen to sit at, too, and outside there was a patio so that guests could dance under the stars.

She finally found her way out of the massive marquee and onto the green beyond. She sucked in the smell of freshly cut grass and grinned as she continued walking. It didn't take her long to find the winding cobblestone path, the gate in the little white picket fence, or the flower garden beyond. She took another deep breath and sneezed as the pollen assaulted her nose. It was a beautiful morning: the sun was only just peeking over the castle walls, and a sliver of golden light glistened off of the dewy grass that lined this part of the garden.

Normally this area was peaceful and quiet. Today, however, it was a hive of activity as servants and Chantry brothers and sisters hurried around, making the final preparations for the wedding. Most were cutting flowers or arranging them. She noted two sisters plucking romantic-red rose petals, and smiled to herself; she knew  _exactly_  where those petals were going.

There was a man dressed in the brown and gold robes of the Chantry crouched next to the koi carp pond. He held a net in his outstretched arm, desperately trying to reach a water lily in the centre of the glistening blue liquid. Neri gave the flower a gentle push with her magic and it floated right into his net. The brother looked around, bewildered, until he laid his hazel eyes upon Neri's grin.

His face lit up with joy, dimples forming in his cheeks. "You have my thanks, my lady!" he hollered with a bob of his head.

Neri returned his smile and nodded in kind.

She found herself at a small tree, more of a shrub really; the mess of twigs and leaves wouldn't make anybody give it a second glance, usually. But today it was in bloom, with beautiful white and yellow flowers that smelled like freshly cut peaches. She plucked the fullest looking flower off of its branch and lifted it to her nose. She grinned at the sweet scent and let out a soft moan. She knew it would be perfect, and so made her way back toward the palace.

The people she passed were smiling and chattering away, mostly about the wedding. She heard some gossiping about some handsome nobles, and others were talking about the kind of dress the bride would be wearing. It struck Neri as entirely strange to hear, and she realised it was because these conversations were  _mundane_. It made such a change to the conversations she had heard during the Blight. It was always, "did you hear about the destruction of such and such, or the death of so and so?" The people she passed were happy, they were hopeful. Perhaps all their hard work since the Blight was starting to pay off, or perhaps people were just choosing to focus on something joyful on such an exciting day.

It had taken a great deal of effort to remove all of the rubble from Denerim; reconstruction had begun on some buildings, but it was the harbour that had been prioritised so aid could be received. Focusing on the capital did, however, mean the other arlings were still in disarray. Teyrn Fergus Cousland of Highever had been sending aid and men to help the southern arlings, but progress was slow. Other areas were lost forever, including Lothering - where Neri had grown up - which would remain black with the taint for many years to come. She was grateful the ground beneath her feet was a luscious green; it almost made it possible to forget about the horrors they had all faced during the Blight, if only for a second.

Neri took the steps two at a time; this part of the palace was quieter than the rest, she was relieved to see, and she reached the door she had been seeking. She tapped on it gently, sensing the Warden on the other side of the door; the taint in her blood was tickling at Neri's mind, a sensation she was still getting used to as it had only begun to occur after the Blight had ended.

"As long as you're not my darling fiancé, you may enter!" Arietta Cousland called out in her singsong voice.

Neri grinned and opened the door. A gasp escaped her lips as she took in the sight of her friend, and now soon-to-be-queen, standing in front of her.

Arietta Cousland had always been a beautiful woman: her porcelain skin, her rosy cheeks, her bright blue eyes, her dainty, slightly upturned nose and her chestnut hair always made her look prim and proper, like the noble she was. Today half of her hair was clipped up; the other half fell gently over her shoulders in soft curls. Her eyelids were tinted with a creamy gold that made the blue of her eyes sparkle, and her cheeks were extra rosy as she smiled at Neri. It was the dress though that brought tears to Neri's eyes.

"Oh, Ari!" Neri cried.

Much of the bridal gown was ivory, with white flowers sewn into it that dotted the gown from the top all the way to the floor, but there was a slit at the front that revealed the golden fabric beneath. The bodice had a sexy laced back and the front was low-cut, revealing Arietta's ample bosom, and her cream heels only amplified her lithe figure.

"How do I look?" Arietta smiled sweetly, her eyes bright with joy.

"Beautiful," Neri whispered, her hand on her mouth to stop herself from squealing.

Arietta beamed and twirled for her.

Neri realised she was staring, but she really had no words for how beautiful her best friend looked. Arietta continued to swish her dress in the mirror, a huge grin plastered on her face.

"Oh, I have something for you," Neri exclaimed at last.

Arietta cocked an eyebrow and smiled curiously. Neri opened her palms, revealing the flower she had picked.

Arietta covered a gasp with her hands as her eyes brimmed with tears. "Neri, it's perfect!"

Neri giggled at her reaction. "Want me to…?" she said, pointing to the future Queen's hair.

Arietta bobbed her head up and down enthusiastically and beamed.

"You might need to sit, I'm half your height when you wear those heels," Neri said with a light chuckle.

Arietta giggled as she sat herself on a stool in front of her messy vanity table.

Neri placed the flower over the clip, slightly off-centre, and then secured it.

Arietta looked in the mirror and smiled. "Yellow and white," she spoke softly.

Neri nodded cheerfully. "It's a good theme."

It had taken them hours to decide upon it; most royal weddings were gold and some other colour. Eamon, Teagan and Leliana had suggested dark blue and gold; the dark blue was the background colour to the Cousland Heraldry, plus the two colours worked well together. There had been suggestions of gold and white, gold and silver, yellow and blue, green and yellow… and then Neri had suggested white and yellow. White represented a clean slate, a fresh start, a new beginning, and yellow symbolised hope, as well as sunshine. Together they meant the darkness had finally receded. There were other connotations too, of course: both Alistair and Arietta had been virgins at the beginning of the Blight, they were both virgins to ruling and governing an entire country, and yellow was Arietta's - sadly deceased - little sister's favourite colour. So when Neri had suggested it and explained, Arietta and Alistair had both eagerly nodded their heads in agreement.

"I love it," Arietta said jubilantly as she bubbled with excitement.

Neri rubbed Arietta's shoulders gently, caressing her supple skin. "You are going to look incredible walking down that aisle."

Arietta stilled and smiled sadly. "I just wish my parents could see it."

Neri kissed her head. "I know, but I'm sure they're watching, and you have Fergus."

Arietta squeezed Neri's hand. "And I have you and Leli."

"Always."

Arietta ran her eyes up Neri and then tilted her head with a half-smile. "I do hope you're not wearing _that_  to my wedding," she said, gesturing at Neri's rough jerkin.

Neri snorted. "Well, I was tempted. I wouldn't want to accidentally look prettier than you on your big day," she teased with a crooked smile.

Arietta chuckled. "Off with you, there's only a few hours left now."

"Yes,  _my queen_." Neri bowed deeply with a wicked smile.

Arietta shook her head and smiled. "Could you check on Alistair for me?"

"Of course, he's probably blubbering away," she mildly teased.

"Oh I hope not, the poor man," Arietta cooed.

"I'll sort him out, don't you worry." Neri winked at her, and Arietta rolled her eyes with a laugh.

Neri shut the door behind her and walked into her own chambers, grabbed her gift for Alistair, and then left before tapping on his door.

"Come in!" he hollered, his voice slightly higher than usual.

She opened the door; he was frantically lifting up cloaks against his silver and gold doublet and looking in the mirror at them.

Neri sighed and closed the door.

He looked at her and relief spread across his face, his shoulders losing some of their tension. "Oh good, you're here!" He lifted another cloak and scowled at the mirror. "I was just about to send someone to get you."

"Are you still undecided on the cloak, Your Majesty?" She dipped her head slightly.

He glared at her. "Ugh, keep calling me that and I'll have to call you by your full title, and I know how much you hate  _that._ "

She grinned. "I hate my title because it's ridiculous. Calling you ' _Your Majesty,'_  however, is completely normal, you are king after all," she glibly returned.

They called her Surana the Slayer, Saviour of Denerim and Ender of the Fifth Blight. She hated the stupid thing. It was Arietta that had united the lands, gathered the armies, won the Landsmeet and led the charge to retake Denerim; it was, however, Neri who had taken the final blow… and survived, so apparently she was a big deal now.

He sighed. "Trust me, you do not need to remind me."

She craned her head to the side. "So, you're still fretting about the cloak?"

"I am not fretting!" He waved his arms in the air. "I am just very indecisive about which cloak to wear…" He blushed furiously.

"Riiiiiight."

There really was only a choice of two: a plain gold cloak or the Theirin cloak, a pale yellow thing with the two howling mabari sewn in gold in the centre.

"I might be king, but I am still a bastard. It feels wrong to wear the same cloak that Maric and Cailan wore; they put that cloak on Rowan and Anora. Would Arietta even want it over her shoulders? She doesn't like Anora. And if I wear the Theirin cloak it's like I'm forcing my name onto her and I know remaining a Cousland is important to her." He took a deep breath before continuing.

"So then I should go with plain gold, right? But then that's as if I'm saying she's not good enough to be a Theirin bride, and then there's the fact I don't know what kind of dress she is wearing. You said there was gold on it, so should I wear the gold? Will the yellow clash or match?" He was red in the face by the time he'd stopped blabbering.

"Alistair, take a breath, man."

He tried to open his mouth to speak again, but Neri lifted her hand to silence him.

"I have a solution, maybe." She handed him her gift.

He glared at the box. "What is it?"

"Open it and you'll see, dummy."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I think I prefer you calling me Your Majesty," he sniped. He lifted the lid very slowly then gasped as he pulled the contents out. "Neri…"

"I've been sewing it for a while," she said, twiddling her thumbs nervously.

He looked at her and tears welled in his eyes. "It's perfect!"

It was a dark blue cloak, with yellow and white mabari warhounds sewn in the centre. Around each mabari's neck was a silver Cousland laurel wreath.

She breathed a sigh of relief and her lips turned up into a smile. "Good. I figured it would fix the problems you mentioned."

He was wearing his own cloak instead of the old king's, it incorporated Arietta's heritage, too, and as a bonus it would match her dress just fine.

His strong arms pulled her into a bear hug. "Thank you, thank you so much."

She giggled against his muscled chest. "I'm the maid of honour, it's my job." She airily dismissed his praise as she pulled out of the hug.

"I don't know what I would do without you," he gushed, as he gave her his trademark goofy grin.

She gave him an impish smile in return. "Probably flail around on the floor like a fish out of water," she teased.

He tried to smack her playfully but she dodged his swing and laughed.

She bowed ceremoniously. "If that is all,  _my king_?" She really needed to go and get ready herself before meeting all of their charming guests.

"Yes, yes, shoo!" he playfully ordered.


	2. Small Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neri tries her hand at small talk and some mysterious guests arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos kind strangers! 
> 
> As always, thank you Lisa and ElyssaCousland for your wonderful beta work.

Neri's hair was a curly mess on top of her head, not the nice ringlet curls so many women had; no, Neri's was a storm of swirls and flicks that stuck out in odd directions. She couldn't tame them no matter how hard she tried. Her cheeks and nose were dotted with more freckles than usual too, thanks to the recent sunshine.

She sighed.

Her appearance was satisfactory, she supposed. Her dress was white and dark blue, a corset styled gown which  _almost_  gave her the appearance of having breasts. But the dress gave her such a tiny waist she looked sickly thin, and she absolutely refused to wear heels, so she would remain her short self for the remainder of the day.

With nothing more to do, she left her quarters.

She strolled through the gallery, admiring the paintings on display; there was a large gap on the wall in preparation for the portrait that would eventually be commissioned of Ferelden's new king and queen. She passed the chapel, noticing a few people inside crouched at the front in prayer. She continued on through the royal palace until she found the guest hall. It was a beautiful chamber, only lightly furnished, but the gorgeous stained glass windows lit up the long room in a rainbow of colour. There were a few tables around the edges, adorned with platters of snacks and nibbles, along with some chairs for their guests to sit upon. There were servants wandering about with trays in their hands, most holding drinks for the guests to take.

She walked across the marbled floors and took stock of the hall's current occupants. She could see Arl Eamon, Bann Teagan and Lady Isolde by the east doors, and Fergus was in the centre of the room, surrounded by several women. Neri took note of their lavish hats, fancy gowns and intricate masks, realising they were Orlesians.

"Oh Fergus,  _darling_!" one shrilly voice cried in a thick Orlesian accent, as the owner touched Fergus' arm seductively.

Yep,  _definitely_  Orlesian.

They were like sharks in the water, and Fergus was the prey; being recently widowed and one of two teyrns in all of Ferelden had made him a very desirable catch, no doubt.

Anora was also present, and in talks with a brown haired, blue eyed man. Anora didn't look at all interested in whatever he had to say; she was standing very woodenly and had a fake smile plastered on her face.

Neri waltzed over to Eamon and the others.

"My lady, you look beautiful," Eamon softly said with a smile, his eyes glistening brightly.

"Thank you, my lord. As do you," she replied with a courteous smile.

Eamon was wearing a yellow and blue doublet, Teagan beside him was in a green and brown doublet, and Lady Isolde was in a fine gown of navy and saffron.

"As do you all," Neri corrected.

Neri had never been very good at talking to nobles; the Circle didn't exactly give lessons in speaking with the country's dignitaries, although she had improved considerably due to all of the time she'd spent around Ferelden's elite.

"What a beautiful dress!" Isolde crooned at Neri in her high pitched voice. "Where is it from? It is simply darling, don't you agree, Teagan?"

Neri had to stifle a wince at Isolde's 'Teagan'; for some reason, the way she said his name always rubbed her the wrong way.

Teagan nodded his head. "It is beautiful." He smiled genuinely.

"It is from Highever," Neri explained slightly awkwardly. She had never been very good at talking about fashion either – clothes were clothes. "A lovely little boutique on the sea front, I'm sure Arietta would love to take you there some time." She would probably owe Arietta for throwing her in the deep end with Isolde like that – Arietta disliked Isolde more than she disliked Anora, which was really saying something – but the last thing Neri wanted was to go shopping with the shrill Orlesian.

"What a wonderful idea! Perhaps we can all go to Highever soon. What do you think, dear husband?" Isolde said, smiling with wide eyes at Eamon.

Eamon smiled slowly. "If that is what you wish, Isolde." He turned back to Neri. "I trust everything is going well?"

She chuckled. "The bride is ready, the groom has almost finished fretting, and as far as I know, preparations are nearly complete."

"That's good," Eamon said, slightly amused. "Is there anything you need us to do?"

She took a deep breath and looked at the room slowly filling with guests. "You could help me entertain everyone?" She batted her eyelashes at them sweetly.

They all laughed, but nodded their heads.

"It's been a while since I used small-talk with anybody," Teagan mused.

Neri smiled roguishly at him. "You've still got your charm and good looks; I'm sure you'll manage," she said with a wink.

He laughed softly, his cheeks flushing a little.

She dipped her head. "Good luck."

She wandered off, glancing around the hall; strangers were outnumbering those she knew now, and she let out a small sigh.

She politely checked on a few guests, asking if they needed anything. Most were quite content, it seemed. She avoided the Orlesians, hoping Fergus would be enough to keep them preoccupied.

"You are the slayer of the Archdemon, yes?" the man that had been talking with Anora said in a rich northern accent; she suspected he was from the Free Marches.

She spun to a stop beside him and smiled politely. "Yes, that's correct."

"Hmm." His tan skin crinkled around his nose. "You look nothing like the stories paint you; they barely even mention that you're an elf," he said, slightly disappointed, as his sky blue eyes roamed up her body with distaste.

She arched both her eyebrows in surprise at his despondent tone. "Do you normally take tales as fact, my lord?" she jeered sharply.

He huffed in annoyance, running a hand through his coffee coloured hair. "I just expected someone more… not  _you,"_  he said in a condescending tone, as his lips flattened in disapproval.

She swallowed her anger. "I am _terribly_ sorry to disappoint you, my lord," she said sarcastically, her ochre eyes flashing angrily for a moment.

He straightened his back and narrowed his eyes at her. "I am Elliot Vael, Prince of Starkhaven," he said smugly, holding his hand out for her to kiss.

She stared at him slack-jawed.

His face scrunched up into a scowl, and he pursed his lips. "Do they not teach you manners here?" he said in his rich plummy voice.

She breathed in deeply, counted to three, and smiled brightly. "You wouldn't want me kissing your hand,  _my lord_ , you never know where my lips have been recently," she said sweetly, refusing to call him a prince.

He pulled his hand back sharply, retracting his plump lips as he hissed in disgust, and then he cleared his throat, composing himself once more. "So, tell me, how many men did you command?"

She cocked an eyebrow and placed a hand on her lip. "Command?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, to fight the Archdemon of course. How many soldiers?"

She stared at him blankly and rubbed the back of her neck uncomfortably. "Oh, I don't know, a lot, I guess."

He puffed out his chest. "I command Starkhaven's armies," he bragged. "Thousands of men obey my every word," he boasted in his rich accent.

A small smile touched her lips. "And I'm sure they enjoy listening to your voice very much, my  _prince_." She nodded curtly. "If you'll excuse me?"

He sighed and waved her away disinterestedly.

Neri grabbed a glass off of a moving tray, and downed the champagne.

"Charming fellow, isn't he?" Anora suddenly said from her side, a wry expression on her pretty features.

Neri groaned. "Maker. How do you do this all day, every day?"

"I grew up with it." She shrugged a shoulder. "Did he tell you about all the men he commands?" she said with a slight smirk.

"He did indeed. What an arrogant twat." Neri half-smiled at her.

"You get used to them, eventually," she assured.

"How are you?" Neri asked quietly. "I couldn't help but notice you seemed to be keeping busy as of late…"

Anora fixed her icy eyes on Neri's brown ones. "You are asking if I am still grieving. Of course I am," she stated agitatedly. She sighed a little. "No matter what he did, he was my father," she softly said.

"He died a hero, in the end," Neri volunteered.

"Yes, he did," Anora said sombrely.

Neri had figured out that a Warden would die killing the Archdemon, thanks to her healthy obsession with reading every single book in the Tower, and had made a deal with Anora: her support in the Landsmeet, for her father becoming a Warden. The Orlesian Warden, Riordan, had died as he grounded the Archdemon, and Loghain had died bravely fighting the dragon on the roof of Fort Drakon. As other soldiers had waned in their attacks, Loghain had kept on fighting, until the Archdemon took him in its mouth and crushed him to death, tossing him across the roof like he was nothing; just as Cailan had died all those months prior in the hands of an ogre at Ostagar.

"Ah, I wanted to mention something," Anora said suddenly, in a business-like tone. "There are some nobles here that were very close to my father. It may be nothing, but they might be worth keeping an eye on," murmured Anora, sotto voce, as she glanced around, making sure nobody was listening in.

Neri leaned closer to her. "You don't think they'd try anything?"

"Most of them don't have the balls to do much, but if enough of them felt strongly enough about such a thing… who knows what they might do. They have approached me, giving  _me_  their support should I try to take the throne back." She let out a chirp of laughter.

Neri cocked an eyebrow. "Interesting...what did you say to them?"

"I told them I would be in contact with them if I ever need help." She smiled coyly.

Neri let out a bark of laughter. "They'll be waiting for a long time, then."

Anora rolled her eyes. "Have you not heard the phrase 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer'?"

A grin spread across Neri's face. "Smart."

"We can discuss it at a later date. For now I should get back to mingling, as should you," Anora said with a polite nod.

Neri looked around, but could no longer see Fergus, which left her a little lost as she stood in the centre of the room surrounded by a sea of faces she didn't know.

"My lady." A man bowed to her.

He took her by surprise, so her eyes were wide for a moment before she remembered to smile. "Good day, my lord," she said, as she stared at him blankly.

He laughed softly. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"

She scrutinised him; he was pale, had light blonde hair that fell softly over his forehead, and dark moss green eyes. He was in fancy clothes, a dark red doublet with gold trimmings. His accent suggested he was a Marcher, although she wasn't sure, but she certainly didn't know him.

"Not in the slightest," she said apologetically, smiling at him lopsidedly. "No offence to you of course; I am terrible at remembering face and names!"

He chuckled. "Well, I'd be awfully surprised if you knew mine seeing as we haven't met until now."

"Ah, you have my apologies," she said as the tips of her ears started to turn pink.

He smiled warmly. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Matthew Merton of Ostwick."

Her eyes sparkled as she eyed him with interest. "It is very nice to meet you, Matthew Merton of Ostwick." She smirked, suspecting she recognised the name but she wasn't certain where from. "You may call me Neri."

He grinned. "It is an  _honour_  to meet the slayer of the Archdemon," he said genuinely.

"Ha! It wasn't such a big deal; he was really a very nice dragon once you got to know him," she flippantly joked.

He let out a hearty laugh. "I find that hard to believe!" he hooted.

She chuckled along with him.

His face grew more serious. "Denerim seems to be recovering well, though?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah, it was slow going while the harbour was a mess, but once that was fixed we could bring in ships full of supplies."

He smiled roguishly. "Some of those ships belonged to me."

She smacked her head. "Of course! The Wind Eater, Sorrow's Borne and Waking's Exploits!"

His eyes sparkled as his lips parted into a wide grin. "Well remembered."

"They were beautiful ships!" She laughed, rubbing her neck as her cheeks heated with embarrassment.

"I'm glad you liked them. If all goes well here you could be seeing a lot more of them in the future," he said in a business-like tone.

"You want to increase trade between Ostwick and Ferelden?" she guessed.

He nodded gently. "I would like that very much. We  _are_  neighbours, after all."

"What goods do you trade?" she asked curiously.

"I am part of the trade circle in the Marches; we have partnerships with many cities, so I trade whatever's in demand. For Ferelden it has been medical supplies, food rations and clothes, building supplies, weapons and armour, that sort of thing."

"So everything?" she said coyly.

He snickered. "More or less, yes."

"Well, I shall make sure the newlyweds talk to you about it," she promised.

He beamed at her. "Thank you very much." He bowed his head. "Tell me, is there anything Ferelden is in desperate need of at the moment? I can have more aid sent within the fortnight."

She smiled and pushed her side fringe out of her face. "I'm not sure, to be honest. Leliana has been dealing with supplies and personnel."

A flash of red caught Neri's eyes; she turned to see Leliana stalking toward her, looking quite grim.

"Ah, here she is now."

Leliana nodded in greeting. "Sorry to interrupt, but there are two Antivan nobles here that are not on the guest list…"

Neri scoffed. "I'll handle it. Leli, this is Matthew Merton-"

Leliana's face lit up. "Oh! You sent all that aid! It's such a pleasure to meet you!"

Matthew smiled. "I'll fill her in, thank you," he said to Neri.

She nodded her head and approached the mysterious Antivans.

"Bongiorno," Neri said politely.

The woman turned to face her, her onyx hair flowing silkily behind her shoulders. She grinned cheerfully when her eyes landed on Neri. "Good morning to you too, and what a lovely morning it is," she said in a smooth honeyed voice as her full red lips parted into a roguish smile. "I am Carina Adamo of the beautiful Antiva City." Her caramel eyes glistened brightly. "And this is my paramour, Deon Gilo," she said huskily as she rubbed Deon's arm.

Neri raised both of her eyebrows.

Deon grinned wickedly, his white teeth shining, and took Neri's hand, planting a wet kiss on it.

"It is very nice to meet you both. I am Neria Surana," she said evenly.

Deon pushed his dark brown hair back from his face, and his blue eyes bored into her soul, sending shivers down her spine. She turned her attention back to Carina, her gaze unintentionally landing on the woman's bright red dress and the plump round breasts almost bursting out of it. Neri instinctively licked her lips; they were a stunning couple.

"It is such a pleasure to meet you, my dear," Carina purred, as she lifted her hand to stroke Neri's hair. She ran her predatory eyes up Neri's nimble form.

Neri's breath hitched from the sensual touch, and swallowed thickly as her heart rate rose.

_It's their accents; it's always their accents!_

"I don't believe you are on our guest list," Neri managed to concentrate enough to say, remembering she should be suspicious of these unexpected guests.

Carina chuckled lightly, her caramel eyes almost glowing. "Ah, funny things, lists; by their very definition, they have no ending, yes?"

Neri raised an eyebrow slightly. "Why is it you want to attend, if you don't mind my asking?"

Carina grinned. "Who doesn't love a good party? And perhaps we'll even become best friends," she said in a sultry voice.

Neri swallowed again, her throat hoarse and dry.

"We won't be any trouble, my dear," Deon hummed. "Just so long as you keep the drinks flowing!" He laughed throatily, sending vibrations through her.

_Maker, give me strength._

Neri took a deep breath. "Very well," she conceded. She gave them a bright smile that didn't quite touch her eyes as they grinned wickedly at her.

_Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer._


	3. The Big Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arietta and Alistair finally marry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Lisa and Steph for their wonderful beta work!

Arietta wiped her sweaty palms once more, and took a steadying breath to calm her fluttering stomach.

_I can't believe this is really happening!_

Fergus stared at her, his eyes moist with unshed tears. "You ready?" he asked in a slightly brittle voice as emotion cracked it.

Arietta grinned and nodded enthusiastically, before threading her arm through his.

He smiled at her, feeling fit to burst with pride, and then the doors swung open, and she took her first tentative step down the aisle.

The chantry was filled to the brim with people, and every single smiling face turned to look at her. She grinned the whole way down the aisle. Blood was rushing through her ears, blocking out much of the music and singing, and then she noticed Alistair.

He still had his back to her, but she could tell he was eager to turn; his hands were tapping at his sides impatiently. The cloak on his back made her heart stop, and she nearly burst into tears, it was so beautiful. The Theirin mabari had her family's laurel wreaths around their necks.

Alistair turned to face her; his eyes widened and then he smiled at her, that slow smile she loved so much. His silver and gold doublet was tight against his muscular frame, his sandy hair was silky and perfect, his cheeks were a little flushed but he had never looked more radiant. She beamed back as tears swelled and threatened to spill from her eyes.

Alistair had to remember to breathe as he stared at his beloved walking down the aisle. She looked beautiful. He was glad he wouldn't have to say much during the service; he wasn't sure he could, with his throat tight with emotion and his mouth dry from his nervousness. But as she reached his side and their hands touched, none of that seemed important.

She reached Alistair's side, their hands touching lightly, and Fergus passed her over, kissing her on the cheek and clapping Alistair on the back. Her breathing was ragged as Alistair held her hand, and their palms were soon wet with sweat as they gripped each other firmly. She was barely paying attention to the words the Grand Cleric spoke, and suddenly Alistair was removing his cloak and draping it over her shoulders, his gentle touches sending fire through her body.

And then they were kissing.

_Oh Maker, I will never stop loving this man!_

The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles.

Their kiss ended far too soon, and they turned to face their guests; every single person was standing, cheering. Arietta looked to her brother who was fighting tears and beamed at him. She looked at Neri and Leliana as well; both of them were openly sobbing, as was Wynne behind them. Arietta burst into tears at the sight of them all and a bubble of laughter burst past her lips.

Arietta and her  _husband_  walked back up the aisle as people threw flowers at their feet. When they reached the end of the aisle Alistair scooped her up and kissed her passionately, and the crowd roared in celebration.

**…**

She held Alistair's hand tightly as she sat with him at the long table under the marquee. It was a brilliant day, the sun was shining and the sky was a bright blue. The marquee itself looked phenomenal. The ceiling was decorated with the image of two griffons, made from daisy chains; she had no idea how the staff had tied them all together so elaborately, but it looked spectacular. The yellow and white theme was everywhere, and always made Arietta smile when she saw it. Neri had truly outdone herself when she suggested such a wonderful and deeply personal idea.

Her best friend was giving a toast now.

"We certainly had our differences in the beginning," Neri said wryly, a smirk on her lips. "Arietta would get annoyed at me if I stopped too long to pick flowers or catch butterflies; we did have a Blight to stop after all!" she exclaimed with a chuckle. The crowd chuckled too, and Arietta couldn't stop the grin widening across her face.

"We once had a  _huge_  fight on top of a mountain – that was just after killing a high dragon, and just before we found the Urn of Sacred Ashes," Neri said nonchalantly "Y _ou're welcome, Grand Cleric_ ," she added coyly, winking at the older woman, and Elemena shook her head slightly, in exasperation. "We saw some crazy things on our travels: werewolves, undead, talking  _and_  walking trees, Broodmothers," she shuddered slightly. "The dragon really was the least weird of the bunch!" She let out a chirp of laughter.

"It was hard at times," she said more sombrely. "We were frequently fighting for our lives, often before breakfast, although that might have been to our advantage, because have you seen how much Grey Wardens eat!? You do  _not_  want to get between them and breakfast!" She smiled brightly. "But despite the darkness, I was privileged enough to watch Arietta and Alistair's relationship grow. Heck, I'm half the reason they ended up together – they were both too awkward to start a relationship so I gave them a little nudge." She gave them a smug grin.

"Their relationship is the purest kind of love I have ever seen," she continued sincerely. "Sometimes when you meet a couple, questions like 'are they going to marry' come to mind. For Arietta and Alistair, it was never like that, it was simply  _when_  will they marry?" Neri looked at Arietta and Alistair fondly. "I truly believe you were meant to find one another through all of the darkness, and I know you'll bring some of that light forward as you rule Ferelden together."

"To the new king and queen of Ferelden!" Neri raised her glass and everyone drank.

"I love you," Arietta whispered in Alistair's ear.

He kissed her cheek, his lips lingering as he whispered to her," I love you too, always."

Fergus cleared his throat and stood up, tapping his glass with a spoon. "Alright, I wanted to say a few words." He smiled at Arietta. " _My sister_ , what can I say?" He chuckled. "I can scarcely believe the little girl who used to get pushed in the dirt by mean boys is now my queen." He smiled warmly at her. "I always knew you would do great things, Sis, and Mother and Father knew it too. I wish they could be here today, but I know they are watching over us now, and they are smiling proudly from the Maker's side."

Arietta bit on her lip to stifle a sob as tears rolled down her cheeks, and Alistair squeezed her hand.

"Elissa is up there too, our baby sister. I know she's grinning brightly, bursting with pride." He wiped a tear from his cheek.

"You accomplished what we all thought was impossible: you ended the Blight. I know Neri has been hogging a lot of the credit," he smirked at the elf, and Neri stuck her tongue out at him, "but it was you who raised the armies and led them. Without you, Denerim would not be here, nor would many of us."

He raised his glass. "So on behalf of everyone here, and all of Ferelden too, I wanted to say  _thank you_. You never gave up, you kept fighting, you went out of your way to help others when it would have been easier to turn a blind eye, and you sacrificed so much to save us all. You all did, and I know you will be wonderful rulers. To the new king and queen!"

Everyone cheered and drank.

Alistair took a deep breath, kissed Arietta's hand, and stood.

"Well, everyone else is doing it, so I thought I'd join in!" He chuckled, and then looked down at her lovingly. "Arietta, I love you," he breathed. "I won't tell you it was love at first sight, or anything clichéd like that. But it  _was_  scarily fast how quickly I fell in love with you."

She held back a sniffle as she stared up at him teary eyed.

"You are everything to me. I promise to treasure you, always, to be there for you, always, and to love you, always. There is nobody I would rather have as my wife than you, there is nobody I'd rather wake up to every morning, and there is nobody I'd rather spend the rest of my life with, however long or short that may be."

He wiped a tear from his eye. "I love you, with all of my heart, always."

She rose from her seat, crying uncontrollably, and hugged him. The crowd cheered and she kissed Alistair on the lips tenderly, tasting the salt of their tears.


	4. Under The Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guests enjoy drunken revelry but Neri and Zev make a disturbing discovery.

The drinks were flowing, the music was blaring and the guests were merry.

The wedding ceremony had been flawless; Arietta looked radiant as she walked down the aisle on Fergus' arm, and he had never looked prouder. Neri was quite certain she had no tears left to cry, though as she had sobbed most of the day - which was really very unlike her - she'd have to go do something uncouth later to make up for it.

The food had been incredible as well; Neri had eaten until she nearly popped. Food had since been replaced by drinks, lots and lots of drinks. Alistair had led Arietta out onto the patio some time ago for the night's first dance, but they were still out there, among the crowd of faces, dancing away in each other's arms. The beautiful day had turned into a wonderful night, with the stars twinkling brightly above them. Neri found herself watching the guests with amusement as the song playing was a high tempo one, and many of the guests were struggling to keep up, drunk as they were.

"A beautiful night for a wedding," Matthew Merton said from her side.

His blond hair looked the colour of ash in the starlight, and his moss green eyes were almost black, cast in shadow under the marquee.

Her lips parted into a lazy smile as she nodded, the alcohol starting to take effect. "It is. Are you enjoying yourself, Matthew?"

He nodded and his eyes followed a pair of dancers as they swept by, the woman's skirt billowing around her wildly. "I am. There are more Marchers here than I thought there would be; Elliot Vael and I were conversing not long ago. I had hoped he might be my ticket into the Starkhaven markets, but he appears to be more interested in his army than trade, or anything else, for that matter." A smirk played at the corners of his mouth.

Neri leaned into Matthew, her hand on his shoulder, as her other hand lifted and she gazed into the distance. " _Thousands of men obey my every word,"_  she said, impersonating Elliot with a laugh.

Matthew chortled loudly. "That impression was spot on, my lady!" He wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh dear, I do feel sorry for him though, he's the spare heir after all; those armies are all he has going for him, it seems. I dread to think what the third son is like."

"He's probably rude and obnoxious too," Neri said with a slight chuckle.

Matthew nodded his agreement. "A good thing he is not here then; one prince is quite enough!"

"I'll drink to that!" She chugged some more champagne. "So, did you speak with the king and queen?"

"I did! I will return in a few weeks, once they are back from their honeymoon, to discuss trade alliances. I'd like to help any way I can."

"Why?" she blurted.

His eyebrows bounced up his forehead and his eyes were wide for a moment before his face settled into a scowl.

She raised her hands apologetically. "Sorry, I meant, why help so much? Is there a reason, or are you just this ridiculously nice?" she said with a giggle.

His eyes twinkled as his smile returned. "My uncle was a Grey Warden," he said by way of an explanation, as he stared down at his drink wistfully. "He was always telling me how important it was for people to work together; he was paranoid the darkspawn would attack the Marches again because we don't have a unified government or army."

He looked down at her, his eyes glistening slightly. "He died some years ago, and I suppose I feel obliged to help you now, to honour his memory."

She nodded in understanding. "How did he die?" she asked quietly.

He took a swig of his drink. "He left for his Calling."

She raised both her eyebrows in surprise.

He looked amused. "He told me a lot about the Wardens; I was a curious boy and he was a talkative drunk," he said with a shrug.

"Well, thank you. If there is anything we can do for you, don't hesitate to ask." She smiled at him warmly. She was suddenly thrown against Matthew's chest by a very drunk Arietta crashing into her back. Matthew caught them both.

"Neeeeeeeeeeeriiiii," Arietta slurred wildly.

Neri smirked as she held Arietta up. "Hello."

"Isn't this a fantastic party?" Alistair 'danced' over to them, his arms bent in front of him as he jigged them up and down with the sway of his hips, grinning wildly. "It's so, so, so, so, soooo great!"

Arietta wrapped her arm around Matthew. "Mathoo 'ere, is my heroo, did y'know that, Neri?" She started to squeeze Matthew's cheeks, and the Marcher blushed crimson.

Matthew swallowed thickly and found his voice. "My Queen, you are too kind."

"And drunk," Neri quipped.

"I'm not dwunk! How dare you – what's tha' word? I can't 'member, I always forget thins, don't I!? Or do I? I don't remeberrr." Arietta's eyes went wide as an Orlesian woman glided past them. "Look at that mask! I wan'it!" Arietta ran off, dragging a still dancing Alistair with her, to chase after the Orlesian.

Neri groaned loudly, rubbing her forehead in embarrassment. "Well, that was… entertaining."

Matthew chuckled softly, his cheeks still rosy. "I am glad they are enjoying themselves." His eyes fixed on something out on the patio, and then he looked back at Neri. "If you'll excuse me though, my lady?"

She nodded; he strolled over to Anora and appeared to ask her to dance. Neri couldn't help but smile as he disappeared into the crowd with her.

She grabbed another glass of champagne, emptied it, placed it back down on the passing tray and grabbed another.

Zevran had been watching the dancers for some time now, keeping a watchful eye on Ferelden's new king and queen. He saw Arietta fall into Neri and the Merton fellow and couldn't help but laugh. Neri was alone now, so he meandered over to her. She looked quite exquisite in the pale moonlight, her golden curls looked silver, and her big, almond shaped brown eyes were a warm coffee colour.

"Care to dance?" he said to her luridly, his lips curving slightly.

She laughed softly at him, shaking her head. "Not to a song like this! We'll fall over and knowing us we won't be able to get back up," she said suggestively, with a slight quirk of one brow.

He gave her a wicked grin. "Mmm, alcohol does tend to make you  _quite_  frisky," he purred.

She smiled coyly. "I've only had six glasses; it will take a lot more to make me drunk! Grey Wardens are quite resistant to the effects of alcohol, I'll have you know."

Just then Alistair and Arietta ran past. Alistair was wearing the fancy mask and Arietta was chasing him to get it back; she leapt onto his back and they both fell to the floor, rolling on the ground in a fit of laughter.

Neri sighed and Zevran cracked a laugh. "You were saying, my love?"

"They might not be able to handle their drink, but I am  _not_  drunk," she stubbornly said, but her eyes were still playful.

"Perhaps, but you  _are_  more than a little tipsy."

She eyed him suspiciously, taking another sip from her drink. "How can you tell?"

"For one, you can't stop grinning."

"It's my best friend's wedding night!" she countered, eyes narrowing slightly.

He simpered, looking pleased with himself. "Two: your cheeks are more than a little flushed."

She pushed her lip out in a pout and folded her arms. "It's a warm night."

"Three: you have the hiccups."

"I do NHGGGGGT." She hiccupped, and then glared at him. "How did you know!?"

"Lucky guess." He shrugged and grinned smugly. "You always hiccup when you're drunk." The music changed and he smirked mischievously. He took her drink, dumping it on a passing tray, and then he grabbed her hand, pulling her onto the patio to dance. She smirked at him as she realised it was a slow dance, and he pulled her tight against him.

They had been lovers for some time now, but it was only on the eve of battle before the Blight that they'd admitted their true feelings for one another. Even after saying the ' _L_ ' word, things were still quite casual. If they saw someone they liked they didn't hesitate to ask them to join them. She had never had so much fun in a relationship before, and she'd grown up in the Circle with Anders and Solona Amell who were  _always_  up for fun. There was just something about Zevran, she felt so  _normal_  with him, so relaxed.

She loved him that much more when she could feel every inch of him against her as she could now, as their bodies moved slowly together. He flexed his muscles, and ground his hip into her. In no time at all her breathing was ragged, her entire body was hot and needy, and he bloody well knew it; the damn assassin could not stop smirking.

_Two can play at that game!_

She grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling his face closer to hers, so their lips were almost touching, their breath mingling together. He smelled divine, spices and musk. She started to grind her hips into him, and smiled wickedly as his cock hardened against her. Neri rubbed herself up and down his length, making him groan. Her fingers massaged his scalp, while her other hand fisted his doublet roughly. His hands snaked down her body to squeeze her round little ass, not wanting to let her win so easily, and she moaned. She took his lips with hers and they were lost to each other.

**…**

"Mind if I cut in?" the Antivan woman, Carina, asked with a sly smile playing on her lips.

Neri and Zevran pulled apart abruptly, both breathless from their kiss, and Carina snaked her arm around Zevran's neck, smiling seductively.

Neri cocked an eyebrow and folded her arms. "What happened to your  _paramour_?" she spat a little harshly.

"He needed a break from dancing." Carina smiled sweetly, her caramel eyes warm with delight.

Neri sighed but nodded her head; she wanted to see what Zevran thought of the mysterious Antivans. Zevran gave Carina his arm and they wandered off into the crowd.

Neri looked around for a waiter's tray.

"Here." Deon appeared at her side and handed her a glass. "Champagne, right?" he smoothly said, his grin bright against his tanned skin.

"Uhh, yes, thank you." She stared down at the bubbling drink suspiciously, unsure whether she could trust Deon or not. Reluctantly, she took a cautious sip.

"If I wanted you dead, I'd do it much more  _spectacularly_ ," he said, his blue eyes gleaming brightly.

She drank more deeply, the bubbles tickling her throat.

He gave her a half-smile. "As our partners are preoccupied, perhaps you'd join me for a dance instead?"

"Sure." She gave him her hand, and he led her to the centre of the patio.

He curled a hot, soft hand around the back of her neck, and placed his other hand at the small of her back, and she did the same to him. It meant she was just inches from his body, and under her fingers she could feel the steady pulse in his neck, which of course made hers extremely erratic.

She nearly tripped over her own feet, but he held her closer to him, and she gasped slightly as her nimble form pressed against his hard frame. His hand moved to lift her chin with a long index finger. "I'll lead. Watch my eyes and the steps will come to you," he said in a velvety smooth whisper.

She gulped and nodded.

His hand moved back to the nape of her neck and a shiver ran all the way down her spine. Her brown eyes found his blue ones and suddenly staring up at him was not so daunting; he had the most mesmerising eyes, one moment they were a brilliant sky blue, and the next they were a deep midnight colour, almost black.

Staring up at him  _did_  help, though. She could feel the music flowing through her and their bodies moved gracefully together, sweeping around the patio, even as the music picked up pace. She could feel his steady pulse quicken and her cheeks flushed in the cool evening air. She swallowed thickly, trying to calm the building heat between her legs.

_Say something!_

"So, you're a paramour?" she squeaked.

_Not the best topic to discuss!_

He smiled roguishly, his eyes darkening to that midnight blue. "I am." He leaned into her ear, his lips brushing against her skin. "I am an expert lover," he purred.

Her entire body trembled. "Mmmm, I bet you are," she blurted, biting down on her lip hard as Deon grinned.

_Damn the alcohol!_

His eyes were dancing with mischief as a smile played across his lips. "So, tell me, are you and the elf together?"

"We are," she said playfully.

His eyes sparkled as he nodded his head. "Passion is so  _very_  important. You have to love life, love what you do, otherwise what is the point in living?"

"Said the paramour…" Neri smirked.

"It is not my job, you know. I am not an escort," he said more seriously. "I am just her lover."

Neri's ears flicked back and her eyebrows arched slightly. "I just assumed…"

He smiled smugly. "Mmm, there is much you do not know about me," he whispered.

Her body quivered as his voice cut through her like shattered diamonds.

He picked up their pace again so they were flying across the patio, her dress blowing in the wind they were generating. His lips were slightly parted, his breath more rapid, and his eyes never left hers.

They slowed their steps again, and she was able to catch her breath.

His hand gently brushed a stray blonde hair away from her face. "Tell me: do you love what you do?"

She frowned slightly. "You mean being a Grey Warden?"

He nodded and stared at her intently.

She looked down as she assessed how she truly felt about the Wardens, slightly confused by the change in conversation. "Well, it doesn't have the best retirement plan… and with the Blight and all, it wasn't exactly pleasant a lot of the time," she said with an amused smile.

He seemed to consider this. "What would you do if you could do anything in Thedas?"

"I'd like to travel, I think. But being a mage kind of limits my career prospects just a little." She chuckled softly.

He craned his head to the side, and his eyes grew harder. "Magic is a gift," he said firmly, his face serious.

Her lips twitched into a small smile. It was rare to find someone who appreciated magic and didn't fear it.

He started to smirk and leaned into her ear again. "Especially in the bedroom," he said in a seductive whisper. Her breath hitched and he pulled away with a wicked grin, his eyes seemingly undressing her. "The things I could do to you if I had magic," he growled, his eyes black with desire.

A moan whispered across her lips. "What about without?" she said softly, her entire body hot and wanton.

A slow grin stretched across his face and his eyes gleamed like black pearls. He tilted his head, and her lips parted in anticipation of the kiss, her tongue darting out to wet them.

Zevran cleared his throat. "Mind if I cut in," he said curtly, a wooden smile on his lips.

She immediately knew something was wrong; his shoulders were tense and his jaw was clenched.

"Why of course," Deon hummed. He took Neri's hand, pulled it to his lips, and kissed it gently, lingering longer than was needed, but not unwanted. "It has been a pleasure," he said warmly. "Until we meet again." With a grin, he disappeared into the crowd. Her stare lingered on the spot where he'd stood a moment before as her hand still tingled from the kiss.

She suddenly snapped her eyes back to Zevran, who was chewing on his lip. "What's wrong, love?" He grabbed her waist and began to dance with her. "Zevran?" she asked, fear creeping into her voice.

His eyes found hers, slightly white with fear. "She is wearing armour," he whispered.

She looked around and frowned. "Who?"

"Carina," he said quietly.

Neri's brow furrowed further. "Why would she–"

"She may be a Crow," Zevran interrupted, as he spun her expertly.

She thumped back into his chest. "Shit," she muttered.

His body was stiff, his expression dark. "My thoughts exactly," he said tightly.

They drifted past some nobles who were falling over, laughing hysterically. Their cackles cut through her like glass, and did nothing to lessen the growing fear building in the pit of her stomach.

"Are you her target?" she asked quietly, her lips turned downwards.

"Perhaps."

She caressed his neck with her hand, softly stroking the nape of his neck. "What do we do?"

His honey coloured eyes landed on her brown ones, some of the warmness returning to them. "For now, we watch and wait." He kissed her forehead.

She let out a small sigh, her eyes scanning the crowd. "Should we warn Arietta and Alistair?"

"No, let them enjoy their night. As drunk as they are I fear they'd be no help at all."

She chewed on her lip a little. "And if they're the target and not you?" she queried softly.

The muscle in his jaw twitched as he clenched it. "I will keep an eye on them," he reassured her, his head pressing against her own.

She stared into his eyes, her arms wrapped around him protectively. "I don't like being a sitting duck, Zev."

"Ah, but at least we are moving ducks," he said with a half-smile.

She chuckled against him.

He stroked her cheek. "Try not to worry, cara mia."

They danced a little while longer, holding each other in a loving embrace, until he wandered off to scout around a little.

She stood just inside the marquee, her arm draped across her body, grasping her other one gently as she glanced around nervously.

"Neri, is everything okay?" Leliana asked, her azure eyes narrowing in worry.

Neri gave her a thin smile. "Oh, yeah." She swallowed, pursing her lips. "Well no. I don't know," she said unhelpfully, with a sigh.

Leliana squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, cocking her head to the side, her red hair falling away from her face. "What is it?"

"It's Zev," she said worriedly.

Leliana gasped. "You didn't break up, did you!?"

Neri arched her eyebrows and shook her head, smiling slightly. "No. We are still together, Leli, fear not."

The bard looked relieved but then she frowned slightly. "What then?"

Neri took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. "You remember the Antivans from this morning?"

Leliana tilted her head slightly, nodding. "Of course."

"The woman, Carina, is wearing armour under her dress."

Leliana frowned. "How did she even fit armour under such a gown? And why would she wear such a thing at a party?"

"Sadly irrelevant, we're worried she might be a Crow," Neri explained.

Leliana arched her eyebrows in surprise. "Have you confronted her?"

"No, we don't want to make a scene and worry everyone."

She watched the guests dancing, and couldn't help but wonder how many of them were sheep and how many were wolves.

"Do you think Zev's the target?" Leliana asked tenderly.

Neri shrugged a shoulder ineffectually. "It's a possibility; the Crows  _do_  like to hold grudges."

"What do you need me to do?" she asked in a business-like tone.

"Watch over the king and queen for me. I have Zev's back."

"I will. And try not to worry, Neri, it might be nothing." Leliana smiled sweetly, and skittered off.

Zevran moved toward her slowly, his head slightly lowered; she walked to him and took him in her arms. "I love you, Zevran Arainai." She planted a wet kiss on his lips and felt his lips curve into a smile against hers.

"I love you too, cara mia." He kissed her back tenderly.

She pulled away and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Leliana knows. She'll watch over the newlyweds, so that's one less thing to worry about." She smiled gingerly.

He nodded his head in thanks. "Our mysterious Antivan friends are dancing away."

"Let's hope they stay like that." She smirked.

She started to relax again in his arms, so she planted kisses down his jaw and neck and up his ear, her tongue darting out occasionally to lick him. His hands roamed over her body as they danced slowly together. He gave her ass a gentle squeeze with one hand, as the other gripped her hair.

She moaned softly into his ears, and moved to take his lips with hers again. Their tongues danced together, slowly swirling around each other at first, and then more insistently, fighting for dominance as their passion grew. Her sex was throbbing impatiently; this entire night was such a tease, she could barely restrain herself a moment longer.

"Ahh, Neri, was it?" Carina crooned suddenly, cock-blocking her once again.

Neri pulled away from Zevran sharply, her eyes landing on the Antivan with a slight glare.

"I was hoping to borrow Zevran for a while…" Carina ran her eyes up and down Zevran's lean build, and Neri found herself clenching her jaw.

Zevran swallowed thickly, but gave Neri a slight nod.

"Of course," Neri said politely, a fake smile playing on her lips.

Carina broke into a grin, her eyes burning like hot coals.

Zevran gave Carina a thin smile, and then kissed Neri on the cheek. " _Follow_ ," he whispered into her ear.


	5. Hidden In Plain Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!

Carina led Zevran into the East study, just off of the patio. Neri kept to the shadows, staying outside as she waited patiently for Carina to make her move. Neri found one of the study windows and peered in through it.

Inside, Carina slowly unlaced her dress, her fingers moving quickly as they pulled on the blood red ribbon. Zevran looked on, still stiff, but he didn't say anything. Carina's dress dropped to the floor, pooling at her feet. Neri arched an eyebrow at the 'armour' she was wearing underneath. She had only a light, clearly cosmetic, chainmail corset on, that hugged her curves snugly.

Carina was everything Neri wasn't. She had curves, where Neri was straight and slim. Carina had thick long hair, which fell neatly down her back, whereas Neri had short wispy flicks and curls. Carina turned to the side and Neri got a better view of her magnificent bosom, it was so round and plump, Neri couldn't help but stare down at her own flat chest in jealousy.

Carina lifted the chainmail corset off and her tits bounced gently. Neri groaned, her desire bubbling to the surface once again as she took in the beautiful Antivan now completely nude in front of her. Carina sauntered toward Zevran, her hips swaying seductively; she reached Zevran, her hands cupping both sides of his face as she kissed him. He remained stiff at first, and then he melted into her touch as she ran her hands up through his hair.

Carina dropped to her knees, and Neri watched with her mouth open as Carina pulled down Zevran's breeches and went to work on him, her head bobbing back and forth. Zevran's head fell back against the bookcase as he grabbed a fistful of Carina's thick black hair. His eyes fluttered closed, and soon he was thrusting into her mouth.

Neri squeezed her thighs together to try to relieve some of the pressure building there, but it wasn't enough, she was so hot and needy.

_I need to fuck someone! Or something!_

"Quite a show," Deon suddenly hummed from behind her, his lips brushing her ear. She turned sharply, her breath catching at his closeness. "My, my, you do look flustered," he noted, his delicious voice washing over her.

Deciding that Zevran was in no danger, she grabbed Deon's arm and dragged him across the patio, through the marquee and into the west study.

Neri rushed in and knocked the contents of the desk to the floor as Deon closed the door, locking it behind him. Their lips slammed together, her hands grabbing at his dark hair and clawing at his back desperately as his gripped her tightly, fondling her breasts roughly. He yanked her dress off over her head, and his lips descended on hers once more, his tongue pushing urgently into her mouth. She tugged on his breeches, and his cock bounced out. She stroked it gently, and then more insistently as it continued to harden in her hands.

She leaned back on the desk, spreading her legs wide. His fingers found her dripping wet folds and she moaned. He ran his fingers down her slit, his thumb massaging the aching bundle of nerves and she threw her head back in surrender. He thrust two fingers into her core, making her cry out, as her muscles clenched around his fingers, desperate for more. He thrust them in and out of her as his thumb continued to give attention to her clit. His mouth suddenly closed around her sex, making her mew with pleasure. She gasped as he grazed his teeth across her clit, and then his tongue darted inside of her core and she quivered underneath him.

The pressure was too much; her sex was throbbing, swollen and desperate. "Please.  _Fuck me,_ " she pleaded.

He grinned wolfishly, his eyes black with desire. He moved over her, and looked down at her briefly as he thrust into her; she cried out as he stretched and filled her. Then their bodies were moving frantically, rocking together desperately, and the desk creaked with every thrust.

Her breathing became ragged, her heart beat was racing and her entire body trembled. His thrusts became more erratic, and then he grunted as he spilled his hot seed into her, sending her over the edge too. She cried out his name as her orgasm tore through her violently. He pulled out as she continued to convulse, and then something slammed into her jaw. Everything went white as pain surged through her.

She felt weak and completely dazed as she opened her eyes; she was lying on the cold stone floor. The room spun and her head ached painfully. She frowned.

_That was a smite._

Another wave of nausea hit her and she vomited onto the floor, retching up the vile liquid. She wiped her mouth and groaned, slowly turning to look around the room. Her eyes found Deon, who was now fully dressed and grinning smugly.

"I am a little disappointed. They told me doing  _that_  would make a mage's head explode, alas it appears they were mistaken," he sighed.

Her face scrunched up in disgust. " _Templar_ ," she spat.

He shrugged, a sly smile spreading across his lips. "The Crows thought it would be an  _invaluable_  skill."

She tried to sit up, but her body was still too weak. Instead she asked, "I'm your target?"

He chuckled cruelly. "Only just figuring that out, are you?"

She frowned at him. "Why? Who?" she growled.

He rolled his eyes. "Unlike your assassin friend, I  _was_  paid for silence. And even though I am quite certain you will be dead very soon, I shan't risk telling you who hired me."

She pushed herself onto all fours. "How wise," she bit out, grinding her teeth. The room spun again and she clutched her head.

"No need to be bitter, dear, it's just business."

She shot a glare at him; her eyes seemed to spit tawny sparks. "Apologies if I don't see it that way," she said venomously.

"They never do," he huffed.

She used the desk to pull herself to her feet; standing shakily, she faced him with a snarl.

His lips broke into a grin, his white teeth flashing menacingly. "Good," he murmured. "I prefer my targets to be standing, it's just polite, you know?"

Her knees were shaking and her hands were trembling as she took a cautious step forward. "There is nothing polite about  _murder_ , especially at a wedding," she hissed.

He snorted derisively. "My employer wanted you dead sooner rather than later."

Neri backed up to the front of the desk.

_If I can just get to the drawer…_

"And Carina?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation going as long as possible.

He smiled broadly, his eyes sparkling like sapphires. "She is what we call a  _dominatrice_ ," he purred. "She likes whips, armour and beatings. I knew she'd be into a bit of role-play, so I brought her along. I'm sure the elf is having a wonderful time with her; she's really  _very_  good," he said in a deep rasp.

"Risky career move taking on a Warden and a mage at that. You know I killed the Archdemon, right?" she said with an innocent smile.

He chuckled. "Why of course, I did my research. I was very impressed; you'll be an excellent addition to my kill list." He smiled dangerously.

"Did your research also tell you I learned how to fight with a blade?" she said smugly, ripping open the desk drawer and –

"Looking for this?" he bragged, spinning the dagger between his fingers.

She gasped. "How –"

He grinned proudly. "I scouted this entire area earlier. You're quite predictable, really."

She swallowed hard.  _I have nothing, no magic, no weapon…_

"Ah there it is!" he announced cheerfully. "That's my favourite expression! It conveys 'I'm fucked'  _perfectly_."

Her breathing became ragged as she started to panic. "I could scream…"

"And it would die on your tongue," he said darkly.

She clenched her jaw, crossing her arms across her still naked body. "Well, you certainly planned this better than the previous Crows I've encountered," she said acerbically.

He shrugged. "I'm very good at what I do."

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to compose herself, but the panic was beginning to strangle her throat. "And the sex?"

"I love my work; I also love sex, why not have both? And you were so very desperate for it, my dear," he said with a cruel smile.

She moved closer to him. "So, what? You expect me to just stand here, while you  _stab_  me?"

He smiled and nodded. "It would be a lot easier if you did. This doublet is silk, I'd really rather not get blood on it."

Her eyes darted around the room, looking for anything she could use…

He laughed at her. "Unless you plan to beat me to death with a book, you're out of options, sweet heart."

"I'd never waste a good book on you," she croaked.

He chuckled, his eyes bright and happy. "Then you'll stand there and let me do my job?"

Her lips curled in disgust. "Not a chance,  _mate_."

She lunged across the floor, and grabbed a broken shard of glass from the desk's ink pot.

He burst out laughing. "What are you going to do with that, graze my skin?" he mocked.

"I guess your research didn't mention my blood magic?" she said innocently.

She slit her palm and he hissed. The blood poured upwards and Deon's face turned white. She grinned, then sent the torrent of blood crashing into him. She felt more power than she had ever felt before; usually she just sent out a blast of blood to stun an enemy, but she could control the blood more than ever now. She didn't have time to think much of it as she curled the blood up his body. He fell to the floor, clawing at the thick tendrils slowly strangling him. She forced the blood up to his neck, killing his screams. It edged up his face like thick veiny plant roots, and she pushed the blood up his nostrils and in through his mouth as he gasped for breath. He convulsed against her magic, thrashing wildly as his lungs filled with the hot red liquid. His face was a deep purple, his eyes bulging and bloodshot, his neck bleeding from his claw marks.

And then he went still.

She dropped the shard of glass to the floor and stared down at her palm. Avernus had taught her the spells, the one to stun and the one to fuel her casting, but this was something else entirely… She looked at the disturbing corpse of Deon, and dropped to her knees, throwing up the meagre contents of her stomach.

The door flew open and Zevran ran in. His arms went instinctively around her as he checked her for injury. He pulled her palm open and looked at the deep gash with a scowl. He glanced over at the body on the floor and his scowl deepened. He swallowed once. "Blood magic?"

She nodded numbly.

Zev had been there the first and last time she'd used it, to stun the Archdemon and fuel her magic, but this was nothing like that, and she couldn't take her eyes off of the mangled corpse in front of her.


	6. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's recovering after an eventful wedding night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elyssacousland and Lisakodysam, thank you both so much for your beta work. Truly. And thank you for those leaving kudos and reading this, it's much appreciated! Expect this to update Thursdays from now on.

The bed shifted beside her, and she opened one eye to squint at the source of the disturbance; Zevran was sitting up, rubbing his face. The previous night suddenly came flooding back to her, and she squeezed her eyes shut again, swallowing hard.

After a few minutes she spoke. "Zev?" she asked quietly.

He sighed, and then shifted on the bed to face her, but he didn't look her in the eye. "Everything is taken care of. Leliana and Wynne helped me," he said tersely.

She flinched at his cold tone. "And Arietta and Alistair?"

"Do not suspect a thing. I told them you drank too much and had to retire early."

She let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she said genuinely.

He still hadn't looked at her; she shuffled closer to him and lifted his chin with her dainty fingers. She looked into his honey eyes and saw that they were a mix of sadness and fear; a small gasp escaped her lips. "Zev…"

"You said you would only ever use blood magic if your life depended upon it." His eyes hardened and his jaw tightened. "Tell me what happened."

"Well, he was a Crow  _and_  a Templar."

Zevran grimaced.

She looked down at her palm, at the ugly pink scar now running parallel with the scar from her first use of blood magic.

"As you can imagine, I didn't stand a chance. He hit me with a smite while I was rather  _distracted_." She blushed furiously, the tips of her ears reddening. "He'd already swept the room for the hidden knife in the drawer as well."

"Figlio di troia," he cursed.

"Mmm, I had to resort to the blood spells Avernus taught me to gain the upper  _hand_ ," she joked awkwardly.

He groaned. "But that blood magic… his corpse… I have never seen a thing like it, Neri," he puzzled, frowning in confusion.

She chewed on her lip. "Me neither. I don't know what happened…" She shook her head, rubbing a finger along the scar on her palm.

"Do you know who hired him or why?" he asked.

"No, he was paid for silence." She smirked, her eyes gleaming as she eyed Zevran with amusement.

His mouth curved into a smile, his eyes glistening playfully. "Ah, very wise; I hear Crows have a habit of running their mouths off to their captors."

She chuckled quietly. "Yes, I've heard that's  _quite_  a problem." She cleared her throat, her blush creeping down to her neck.

"But you are well?" he asked with concern, cupping her face with a gentle hand.

"Yes, thank you. Are you?"

He nodded slowly. "I was so worried when I could not find you or Deon…And then you were just on your knees staring at him. Do you even remember me leaving to fetch Wynne and Leliana?" She shook her head and he sighed. "Wynne put you to sleep and I carried you to bed before returning to dispose of the body and clean the room with Leliana."

"They know, then, that I am a blood mage."

"They do; I explained about Avernus, though."

"Thank you. How did they react to that?"

"Leliana was quite reasonable, especially when I explained it was the only reason you were able to kill the Archdemon. Wynne was quite reserved but her displeasure was clear on her face."

"Well, let's hope I never have to use it again, eh?" He smiled sadly at her.

They were silent for a little while; Zev sat at her side, absentmindedly stroking her leg as she chewed on her lip. "Deon said Carina was a dominatrice?" He nodded at her. "She was beautiful. I've never seen an armoured corset like that before," Neri admitted.

"Nor had I. As soon as I realised she wasn't there to kill me I should have invited you, I apologise."

"No need. I watched some of it, and then Deon appeared at my side… I should have realised then and there how suspicious that was. Maker, when he handed me a drink earlier that night and I worried for a moment if it was poisoned, he even said if he wanted to kill me he'd do so much more spectacularly that that. And yet I still dragged him into that study…" She stared down at her palm again; he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles gently.

"As long as we always come back to each other, il mio amore."

"Yes," she promised as she leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. She started to smirk. "He really was  _very_  good - up until the part where he tried to kill me."

He grinned. "What is it with you and Antivans, hmm?"

"You're all so damn sexy! With your velvety smooth accents and delicious eyes," she purred.

He shrugged. "We cannot help it I'm afraid, we are simply born like this," he smugly stated.

"One thing's for certain though, he had  _nothing_  on you," she hummed into his ear, her lips brushing against his sensitive skin.

He smiled dangerously, his eyes darkening with desire, and he took her lips with his.

**…**

"No, try the ankle ones." Neri pointed to a pair of black leather boots.

Zevran slipped his feet in and smiled. "Excellent choice,  _my lady_ ," he approved with a bow.

She chuckled. "Shut up,  _Crow._ "

He grinned at her wickedly. She was almost tempted to stay in bed with him all day, but they were already late to breakfast. She slid from the bed and took his arm as they headed down to join the others. She was wearing a long purple gown, and Zevran was in a silver and purple doublet. The breakfast was being held in the private hall, a more intimate gathering for friends and loved ones of the new king and queen.

The double oaken doors opened for them and they swept into the hall together. She smiled warmly at the people already seated around the table: Matthew Merton was at the foot of the table, closest to her. Anora, Wynne, Leliana, and Elliot Vael were seated along the table's length to Matthew's right. To his left were Eamon, Isolde, Teagan, and two Orlesian women followed by Fergus. The head of the table was strangely absent of the king and queen.

Neri couldn't stop the smirk that played across her lips as she slid in opposite Fergus, leaving Zevran to sit next to Vael, much to Zev's annoyance.

"Ah, my lady, you have recovered from last night then?" Teagan said kindly, his lips smiling warmly, as he cupped his morning tea.

She groaned. "Alright, what have you heard?" Neri looked down the table at Wynne and Leliana accusingly, and they smiled coyly, but there was a hint of concern in their eyes.

Teagan chuckled. "Only that you drank a little  _too_  much."

"Do you need  _my_  hangover cure?" Fergus asked, smiling egotistically.

She shot a grin at him. "As good as your cure is, I'm fine, really. Thank you all, though."

"So, where is our illustrious new king and queen?" Zev questioned, smirking slightly.

Everybody knew the answer.

"It appears my sister and her new husband are still in bed," Fergus mused, smiling crookedly.

"Well, food's getting cold. I say we tuck in, they might be a while…" Neri chuckled softly, and everyone filled their plates and began to eat.

"So, you are the Warden who killed the Archdemon?" one of the Orlesian women asked.

Neri beamed at her. "That's correct. Please, call me Neri."

"It is such a pleasure to meet you! I am Lacie Boulez." She smiled enthusiastically.

Lacie seemed nice; as they ate, she asked Neri a lot about Wardens and the Blight, and Neri found out a fair amount about her: she had grown up poor after her parents were accused and tried for treason. She had proven their innocence many years later, but they had already been killed. She worked tirelessly to get her parents' old estate back and provide for her brothers and sisters.

Neri immediately liked her; this was a woman who had been through both tough and good times, and was therefore humble and sweet-natured. She was pretty too, and Fergus seemed to be taking a liking to her. She had a graduated blonde bob, grass green eyes, and cherry red lips.

Her  _friend,_  on the other hand, was your typical Orlesian noble; her name was Charee… something. She was a snobby brunette, focused entirely on clothes, fashion and the latest gossip.

Neri rambled on at some length about their adventures during the Blight; Zevran helped to embellish certain details, and Wynne and Leliana occasionally stepped in with the odd detail too. Much to Neri's amusement, Elliot Vael tried to outdo their stories on several occasions, with tales of his 'wild exploits', but sadly fishing down the Minanter, or hiking up some mountain didn't really compare, and the conversation soon turned back to the Blight.

"Wardens always seem to have the best stories," Matthew wistfully declared. "My uncle told me a story once, one I can scarcely believe to this day," he confessed with bright eyes, as he swept his hair away from his face.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Tell us the story!" Teagan exclaimed eagerly as he ate his breakfast. He seemed to be enjoying their tales a great deal so far, despite being a part of some of the events they had spoken of.

"Well, my uncle was once in the Deep Roads with quite a large party, they were scouting or some such." Matthew took a long sip of his red wine, deliberately making them all wait. "Things were quiet one night, so they brought out the alcohol," he said grinning mischievously. "Hours later most of the Wardens were passed out drunk, but not my uncle." His emerald eyes twinkled as he glanced at Neri. "And that's when the ogre charged into the thaig that they were unconscious in!" he said dramatically; Neri noticed a few people lean forward in their seats, and she smiled.

"It was just my uncle versus this ogre, and he was still holding his flagon of ale when the ogre grabbed him and picked him up." Lacie gasped, and Leliana was listening with wide-eyes. "So he did the only thing he could: he spilt his ale on the ogre's face. It roared in pain as the drink burned its eyes, and with its mouth wide open he dropped the flagon down its throat!" Neri arched both her eyebrows and chuckled, as the others stared on with their mouths open; even Anora was astounded. "The ogre dropped him to the floor, and grabbed at its neck instead, and the beast choked to death!"

"That's remarkable!" Leliana said, enraptured by his story.

"When the Wardens all awoke some time later, they found my uncle passed out next to the ogre. When they all woke him up, he opened the ogre's mouth, reached into its throat, and pulled out his flagon, and they carried on drinking!"

Everyone at the table erupted into a mix of laughter and gasps.

Neri smiled as she sensed the king and queen approaching from down the corridor. She could feel the taint flowing through their veins; Arietta's was flowing a little faster than Alistair's, probably because she was embarrassed about being late. It was such a strange sensation. During the Blight Neri had only been able to sense her fellow Wardens when they were right next to her, and even then she had to concentrate to feel it. But now, she could sense them from quite a distance away, even tell what mood they were in through it. She had no idea why she could suddenly do this, but she had a feeling it was to do with killing the Archdemon. That coupled with her now-powerful blood magic had made her extremely nervous. In her gut she knew something wasn't right, something was different about her, something was  _wrong_ , but she would just ignore it, push it down and forget about it, like she always did.

The king and queen smiled warmly at everyone, apologising for being so late, and then they slid into their seats at the head of the table.

Neri smirked and opened her mouth to make a comment, but Arietta lifted a finger to her. "Not a word," Arietta warned, tight-lipped, her blue eyes ice cold as she shot Neri a look.

Neri slammed her mouth closed and then smiled broadly. "So,  _my queen,_  how are you feeling this morning?"

Arietta narrowed her eyes at Neri. "Hungry."

Neri's smile broke into a grin.

Alistair cleared his throat. "What my darling wife means to say is, absolutely starving, please pass the pheasant." Fergus shook his head with a laugh and handed down the meat.

"I trust everyone had a pleasant night?" Arietta asked, before gobbling down a mouthful of food.

Neri bit into some of her pie as everyone else burst into conversation: a series of compliments and chatter about the wonderful wedding mostly. It didn't take long for Arietta's eyes to fall upon Neri once again.

The queen arched an eyebrow. "You're awfully quiet."

Neri smiled crookedly. "I have a hangover, and I didn't get much of a lie in, I'm guessing you didn't either, despite being late." She gave Arietta a wry look, her eyes glancing at Alistair quickly, before she winked at Arietta.

It was a half-truth.

Arietta rolled her eyes with a reluctant smile on her lips. But she wasn't sure Neri was telling the whole truth, she seemed  _off_  somehow, and Arietta would need to find out why.

"So, your Majesties, when do you leave for the honeymoon?" Matthew asked with interest, drawing Arietta's attention back to their guests.

"And more importantly, where are you going?" Anora asked, watching them curiously.

Arietta smiled coyly and Alistair squeezed her hand. "We leave this afternoon, only for a week, there's too much work still to do. As for the where… that's a secret," Arietta told them with sparkling eyes.

Neri rolled her eyes. They were going to a pretty little cottage on the coast with a private beach to relax away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

The rest of their breakfast had been pleasant, and slowly the guests had said their farewells and returned to their quarters. Most would leave the city within the next few days; only Leliana, Wynne, Eamon and Anora would be staying, along with Neri and Zev. Neri remained at the royal couple's sides as they walked through the palace grounds together.

"Are you sure you're okay, Neri? You disappeared rather suddenly last night," Arietta gently probed.

"I'm surprised you can remember last night at all," Neri hedged with a snigger. Arietta gave Neri her 'I'm serious' face, and Neri sighed. "Really, I'm fine. It's just, a lot is changing at the moment and I feel like I'm being swept away by it all."

"Things haven't changed that much…" Arietta argued.

"Well they certainly would if you ordered me off to command the Grey," Neri retorted.

Arietta looked down at the ground sullenly. "About that: I'm going to be Commander; you don't have to do it."

Neri gawked at her.

This was the woman who, just two months ago, had argued with Neri into the early hours about this exact conversation. Neri wanted nothing to do with command; she'd much rather avoid hours of paper work and stupid people problems. She liked killing darkspawn, and that was about it. But Arietta wanted to focus on her queenly duties and help Alistair put Ferelden back together again, and as stubborn as they both were, neither of them had budged from their stance.

Now, suddenly Arietta had changed her mind. She was willing to be Commander of the Grey; she'd even get the fancy title of Arlessa of Amaranthine out of it too, as the new Warden's Keep was based out of Arl Howe's old estate: such beautiful irony.

Neri couldn't help but frown. "What changed your mind?"

Arietta looked away, and then gave her a cautious half-smile. "It's like you said, I'm more experienced at leading and the nobles are more likely to trust and respect me." She shrugged.

Neri wasn't going to argue with her, this was what she wanted, after all. Neri smirked playfully. "You're just trying to compete with my extravagant title, aren't you?"

Arietta laughed, and Alistair smiled from her side. "You got me! I can't wait to be called Arietta Cousland, the Hero Queen of Ferelden, Arlessa of Amaranthine, and Commander of the Grey." She giggled girlishly.

Alistair pouted. "Why don't I get a ridiculous title?"

Arietta smiled slowly, her eyes glistening with mischief. "I can think of a few titles for you, love." Arietta leaned into his ear and whispered something to him, which Neri ignored entirely despite her elven-hearing. Alistair turned crimson and pulled at the collar of his doublet while clearing his throat.

Neri rolled her eyes. "Well, I shall let you finish your  _walk_  in peace. I'll make sure I see you both off in a little while."


	7. Trouble In Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to ElyssaCousland for her excellent beta skills and to everyone who has left kudos on this!

_Two months after the wedding…_

"Put more water on it!" a servant screamed, waving her arms about frantically.

"Andraste's flaming tits and ass!" Neri cursed, her hands on her head as she watched helplessly.

An eleven servant turned to her with wide eyes. "Don't you have any water spells!?"

"No! I'm a force mage!" she snapped angrily.

"Well then, can't you  _move_  the fire somewhere else!?" the young elf said.

Neri scoffed. "Oh sure! Let me just pick up the flames and smoke and  _drag_  them somewhere else, how about on to the palace roof? Or onto the main hall?" she drawled.

The elf shook his head angrily and more servants ran over, carrying buckets of water. They threw them onto the flames, but Neri could already tell it was a lost cause; their beautiful vegetable patch was burnt to a crisp.

"Put the water down along here," Neri ordered, pointing a little ways from the fire. "Soak the ground enough and it will act as a breaker, stopping the fire from spreading further."

They listened to her and rushed to pour water across the grass.

**…**

"That was the last straw! I want these bastards caught!" Arietta yelled as she paced up and down the study.

"We'll catch them, love," Alistair reassured her, his hazel eyes following her up and down the room as she fretted.

"As mentioned previously, there are still a number of people in the city who supported my father. With his death, they deferred to supporting me," Anora explained. "I can't prove that this is their work, not yet, but it  _does_ seem likely."

"What were their names again, the ones that approached you offering support?" Arietta asked, folding her arms.

"David Trent, Jenson Vern, Lucas Coats and Mark Warwick," Anora said with a nod, her brow furrowed slightly.

"With no evidence we can't do a damn thing, can we?" Alistair speculated sadly, running a hand through his silky golden strands.

"So, we need to catch them in the act? Or get an eye witness or something?" Neri asked.

"Yes," Arietta said as she squeezed her eyes shut and clasped the bridge of her nose.

"Were there really no eye witnesses to the medical supply sabotage in the Chantry? I find it hard to believe nobody noticed someone rubbing  _poison ivy_  on the bandages," Alistair said incredulity, his feet tapping impatiently on the ground.

"It could be random or it could be organised; either way I want to know who is doing this," Arietta said firmly.

Whoever it was had been messing with the royal couple for weeks now. It started with simple rumours, hurtful lies about Arietta murdering her little sister or eating her deceased Mabari: Blossom. Things had then slowly escalated to sabotage. Some trade documents had been altered: instead of requesting fifty white sheets they had received fifty white sheep - which had, admittedly, been hilarious. The sheep raced off of the boat and charged through the streets and alleys; it had taken them days to round them all up. More seriously though, the sabotage had advanced to poison ivy in bandages, chili pepper powder in balms and creams meant for burn victims, and vinegar in poultices and medicines

To help the Chantry continue to aid the poor, Arietta and Alistair had improved the palace's vegetable patch to include elfroot, spindleweed, embrium and ambrosia, as well as more traditional food items. But all of that was gone now, destroyed by arsonists.

A very muddy Zevran marched in through the doors with a broken lip, grinning madly. "I caught them," he breathlessly announced.

"Who? How many?" Arietta blurted.

"Two. Both peasants."

"Interrogate them," Arietta said coolly.

**…**

"I really think it would be best if you answered my friend's questions," Zevran said with a sweet smile.

The man in front of them was a scrawny youth, his hair a tangled brown eyesore, and his face was gaunt and frail; despite appearances though, he had given Zevran quite a run for his money. Zev had given chase as soon as he saw the flames start, and Leliana had been close behind him, after yelling at the servants to put the fire out. He had chased the scrawny man through the poorest part of the city, Peasant's Row, and had been ready to take down the man when he was suddenly hit from the side with fists slamming into his face. Leliana tackled their suspect, as Zevran kicked the man who had leapt out of the shadows to intervene. They had then dragged both men back to the palace for questioning.

Neri stood over the man, with a sardonic smile on her lips, and eyes gleaming dangerously. Zevran had to admit, she looked terrifying in the flickering candle light.

"Look, it's  _really_  simple. Tell us what we need to know or I shall snake a tendril of blood up through your nose into your brain to prod around your memories until I force the words out of your mouth," she said with forced sanguinity.

The man started to blubber and shake his head, sweat pouring down the sides of his face. "Please, I don't know nothin'!" He struggled against his restraints.

She craned her head to the side. "Wrong answer." She picked up a knife, and held it over her palm with a disappointed sigh.

"Wait! Please no, I like my brains the way they are!" he wailed, looking to Zevran for support.

"Then perhaps I'm doing you a favour," she jeered. She placed the blade on her palm, smiling wolfishly.

"No, please! It was a man!" he blurted breathlessly, his eyes bulging from his face.

She pulled the blade away.

"Go on," Zevran urged, folding his arms.

"He comes down to the Row now and again, looking for people to hire. The pay is good and the work ain't too hard, most o' the time."

"What work would that be?" Neri asked curtly, craning her head to the side.

"I ain't done nothin' else, but others, thems tampered with stuff in the Chantry during the weekly blessings," he said bobbing his head up and down.

"This man that hires these men, did he give a name? Can you describe him?" Neri prompted.

"He was always hooded, sounded posh though," the man answered with a desperate shrug.

Neri sighed. "And will your friend in the other room tell us the same story?"

"Yes! It's tha' truth, I swear it. Please don't pick my brains out!"

**…**

Neri got bored listening to Arietta and Alistair plan out how to catch this hooded noble, so she and Zevran headed upstairs.

"You'd make a good interrogator, if you ever wanted to change professions," Zevran teased.

She threw a pillow at him. "Too bad the Wardens are for life then!"

He grinned but then his smile faltered. "You leave soon, for Vigil's Keep."

"I do," she said sadly. Arietta was sending her to greet the Orlesian Wardens, while she remained here to finish up queenly business before heading there herself.

"Are you sure I cannot come with you? It would be fun, no?" He smiled crookedly at her, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I wish!" She grinned impishly. "Some guy called Gable is in charge, and the Orlesian Wardens will be arriving in just under a month. I have to greet them, and I actually have to do work…" she sighed.

"Ah, work. It is so very boring! Don't you want to spend time with me instead, my dear?"

"That's what the last two months have been for…" she hummed, licking her lips. They had done nothing but sleep, eat, fuck, drink, and play games that involved eating, drinking and fucking.

"Bah! And now you must return to slaying darkspawn." He shook his head, slightly annoyed.  _Had Neri and the queen not killed enough of the beasts?_

"You could visit once things have settled down?"

He smiled. "I'd like that."

"You still plan to go to Antiva, right?"

"Yes," he admitted, his face downcast as his feet scuffed the rug.

"Then it looks like we won't be seeing each other for a while…" Neri almost whispered, neither of them wanting to discuss this.

He looked at her miserably. "We should probably talk about what that means, for us, yes?"

He didn't want to leave her, to be separated from her. He had gone from wanting to die, to feeling more alive than he ever had before in Neri's company. His fingers lifted up to his ear to touch his earring, the one he wanted to give to her. He owed her so much, but that's why he had to leave. She was in danger; he had to protect her. He would give her the ring once she was safe, once they could be together properly.

She nodded her head glumly. "I guess we're putting us on pause, for a while?"

He sighed. "That does appear to be the case, yes."

"I am going to miss you, Zev." Her hand touched his face and trailed up his cheek to his hair.

"And I you, Neri."

They looked sadly at one another, and then she started to smirk. "We have time still. Let's make the most of it." Her eyes darkened and her hand slowly moved down his stomach. He grinned roguishly in return and kissed her passionately.


	8. Queen's Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ElyssaCousland, a true talent!

"How  **dare**  you! These bandits are destroying my property. Priceless heirlooms that cannot be replaced are being thrown from my walls!" Lord Longwood huffed, as his large gut protruded over his belt and his face reddened.

He towered above most men, his grey hair was balding despite his best efforts to comb it over, but what he lacked on his head he made up for with his beard.

"And I have darkspawn attacking my trade routes and pillaging my villages!" Lord Horsham argued as he stared down at the portly man.

He was a tall, thin man, with cropped black hair, and a long hooked nose. It usually made him look quite sinister, but today he looked tired and ragged, his eyes deep-set with dark bags under them.

Neither of these men had been having an easy time of it lately, it seemed.

Longwood folded his arms. "Let the Wardens deal with it then, I need men to take back my home!"

"My Lords." Arietta glided in between them.

"Your Majesty," they said in unison, before glaring at one another.

"I know you both have concerns," Arietta began. "Lord Longwood I'm afraid the darkspawn have to take priority, they are a threat to people's lives, you will have to use what token forces you have to starve out the aggressors in your Keep. When soldiers become available I will try to send more to assist. I know what it's like to have your home taken from you, but you and your loved ones have their lives, which is more than can be said for people being attacked by the remnant darkspawn threat."

Longwood opened and closed his mouth. "Very well, your Majesty." He bowed and left.

"Thank you, my queen," Horsham said with a curt nod.

She nodded back, her lips a thin line. "How many darkspawn are your men reporting exactly?" she asked curiously.

"Too many to count, your Majesty. The people are fearful."

"The Orlesian Grey Wardens arrived a few days ago; I will be leaving in a week or so to assess the situation, and my second in command has already left to greet them. I will make sure the situation is dealt with swiftly," she promised.

Arietta said her farewells, and moved on to the next problem that would surely greet her. She rubbed at her temples; a headache was beginning to form there. It had been one problem after another lately. It had taken some time for them to catch the man responsible for the garden fire and all the other sabotage. She had used herself as bait, promising to visit Peasant's Row; she gave ample warming of her planned visit, and sure enough the hooded figure had visited the Row once more, that time, however, he had been greeted by Zevran and Leliana. It turned out to be Lucas Coats: one of the Reach's older nobles. He was in his late fifties; a stout, grizzled man, and a loyal Loghain supporter. After questioning him they had no choice but to conclude he acted alone and was just a bitter old fool. She had ordered him to be locked away until he forgot what Loghain bloody well looked like.

The other nobles Anora had mentioned had yet to partake in any such scheming, but that did not put Arietta's mind at ease. Simple rumours, annoying sabotage, dangerous sabotage… at some point on that spectrum would be attempted assassination, and she no longer had her trusty assassin to watch her back; Zevran had left for Antiva just before Neri took off for Vigil's Keep.

She walked through the gallery, admiring some of the paintings. Her stare lingered on the still-blank spot on the wall; they had been too busy to have the painting completed yet.

"Arietta?" Leliana asked, taking Arietta by surprise.

Arietta smiled warmly at the bard. "Everything okay, Leli?"

"The dwarven ambassador has arrived," she said softly. "He is in your office."

Arietta nodded. "Thank you. Was that all?"

"For now." Leliana smirked. "Here." She handed Arietta a small vile. "For the headache," she explained, when Arietta gave her a strange look.

"How did–"

"You were rubbing at your temples again," she said with a sympathetic smile.

Arietta chuckled. "What would I do without you, Leli?"

"Oh you'd be fine, I'm sure," Leliana mused, her blue eyes shining happily.

"Still, you're a good friend."

She beamed at Arietta, and skipped away.

Arietta walked down the corridor, and headed into her office. It was a large room, with a massive oak desk in the centre, a bar and seating area at the other end, and an archway on the opposite wall which led to a personal library, one filled with books on legislation and history, they were such boring tomes she couldn't even persuade Neri to read them and the elf  _loved_  to read.

Dalond Ovrak was seated in the large cushioned chair in front of her desk, twiddling his long braided beard. He smiled broadly at her as she closed the door to greet him.

"Ah at last, Your Majesty." He dipped his head.

"Well met, Lord Ovrak." She smiled kindly.

He raised his palms to her. "Please, just Dalond."

She nodded, and took her seat. "Very well, you may call me Arietta."

He grinned. "Excellent! Down to business then!" He shifted in his chair. "I don't trust this seat at all, far too soft."

She smirked, her deep blue eyes watching him with amusement; she always found dwarves such curious people, she didn't often tease them for their quirks, unlike Neri, but today was not one of those days. "We can sit on the floor if you prefer?"

"Ha! How unsightly, no these chairs will have to sodding do for now!" He gave her a toothy grin. "My father always said a hard chair makes a hard man; I guess we'll find out if that's true or not today!"

She smiled, her eyes twinkling like stars. "To business then?"

"Yes, King Bhelen has asked me to pass on his congratulations; he always knew you were a true diplomat; securing him the throne, and now your own. He hopes we can be firm allies."

"I hope the same," she said politely.

She didn't like Bhelen, but she had chosen him to be king in hopes it would benefit the dwarven people.

"With that said, we need to discuss surface trade," Dalond said smiling crookedly.

"Very well."

They ended up agreeing that dwarves would be welcome at least once a year in Amaranthine, Highever and Denerim as long as they took on elf or human; it was more trade than any previous ruler had allowed. Arietta also promised to send aid to Orzammar to help push back the darkspawn and reclaim old thaigs, as long as the lyrium trade to the Circle continued despite the lack of Chantry oversight.

She watched the dwarf leave, then sat back in her chair and rolled her sore shoulders.

Alistair walked in, smiling brightly at her. "Looks like you could use a massage," he hummed.

"Mmm, is that an offer?" she asked lazily as her eyes followed him.

He moved to stand behind her chair, and began rubbing the aches away, his big strong hands rubbing deep into the knots of her back and neck. She sighed contentedly, and closed her eyes.

"How was your day?" she enquired softly.

"Well enough; preparations for my tour are nearly complete. You're certain you don't want to join?" he said as his hand gently brushed the nape of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

She leant her head back against his stomach and opened her eyes to look up at him. She smiled sadly. "You know I would if I could, love. But I have to take care of these darkspawn."

His lip turned downward. "Neri can handle it."

"I'm sure she could, but I am the Commander, and it's my responsibility."

He exhaled, his shoulders sagging a little. "I'm going to miss you." He leant down and kissed her head.

"We won't be apart for long." Her lips ghosted his fingers, brushing a kiss over them. "Thank you for doing the tour, my love."

A cheeky smile spread across his delicious lips. "Someone needs to remind the common folk what we look like, and check on the new Tower's development."

She chuckled quietly. "How were things with the Chantry today?"

"The same as always, still a little rough. I think going to morning prayers and aiding the poor is helping though," he intoned thoughtfully.

"That and the money we're giving them," she added with a laugh.

"Yes, that too." He grinned.

The Chantry was not happy that Alistair and Arietta had given the Circle autonomy; so they had resorted to grovelling to win back their approval: helping the poor, visiting the Chantry for prayers each day, and until recently providing medicinal herbs and vegetables for their soup kitchens. Now, they were funding the Chantry's expedition to the Urn of Sacred Ashes, including equipment, transport and supplies, and were even discounting pilgrim's travel expenses to see the Urn.

They were receiving discounted goods from Ostwick and a few other Marcher cities thanks to Matthew Merton, which allowed them to cover some of the costs of the Urn expedition, for which she was extremely thankful. Matthew didn't want anything in return for his help, but she had insisted. According to Neri, Matthew had a fondness for boats, so Arietta had commissioned a new trade ship to be built for him. She had ordered it to be sleek and fast, so it could make the journey between Ostwick and Denerim in three days, which would increase the amount that they could trade, a win for them both.

But most of the money, ironically, came from the money the Crown was now making from the Circle: they had enchanters and mages working in the city selling their wares, with the Crown receiving forty percent of the profits, and they had saved a lot of money on reconstruction in the city by using mages to help clear the rubble away.

Although mages were still not liked or even respected by many, it could not be denied that they were useful, and so far things had been working out rather well. The new Tower was being built on the shores of Lake Calenhad and would have an entire town built around it for the families of mages to live in, making visiting their children much easier. Mages would attend the Tower during the week and then live at home, if they wished, on the weekend. Once Harrowed, they could gain work in the city or travel; they would be watched the first few years by Templars, and would be encouraged to return to the Tower to share what they had learned or to help teach others. Arietta knew it was something Neri felt very strongly about and was very excited to see the changes slowly taking place. They all hoped that the new Tower would be an institution of learning, and not a prison of fear. It would be more like the universities in Orlais where people could come and go as they pleased rather than the old secluded, unwelcoming tower in the middle of the lake.

"How about you, how was your day?" Alistair asked, rubbing a knot out of her back.

She moaned, and then went on to explain her day to him.

"I still plan on visiting the new Keep after this tour; I should like to see these Orlesian Grey Wardens," Alistair chimed excitedly.

She nodded enthusiastically. "I can't wait to meet them all."

Arietta and Neri had never had the 'Warden experience' as it were. They hadn't met many of their Order, and they certainly hadn't experienced any of the good things about being a Warden. And somehow Arietta was supposed to  _command_  them all.

The letter had come the day after the wedding, nearly three months ago now. The First Warden, as far as she knew, never wrote to people himself, but he had done so for her. He had  _suggested_  she lead the Grey in Ferelden. His arguments were similar to Neri's: Arietta was a more experienced leader and would be more respected. With Neri's unusual survival of the 'fatal' blow, the last thing Arietta wanted to do was piss off the First Warden, so she had accepted her new title. She didn't tell Neri about the letter, simply because the elf would take it as a slight – another thing she couldn't do because of her ears and magic.

"Arietta?" Leliana questioned, appearing in the doorway.

"Leli, what have you got for me this time?" she asked with a playful smile.

"Four Grey Wardens," Leliana said nonchalantly.

Arietta lurched forward. "What?"

"Stroud, one of the high ranking Wardens from Orlais, is in the entrance hall," Leliana mused, her blue eyes dancing.

Arietta looked up at Alistair's surprised expression, and they both rushed to their feet.

"Stroud!" Arietta exclaimed, taking the man's hand with hers.

He smiled, his magnificent moustache lifting with his lips, and nodded at both of them. "Your Majesties, it is a pleasure."

"I had thought we were to meet at Vigil's Keep?" Arietta asked, slightly confused.

He nodded sternly. "We were. I apologise for turning up unannounced; we encountered darkspawn on the road upon arriving in Amaranthine. I thought it best to warn you in advance." He turned his head and looked at a short human with dark brown hair, a square jaw and dazzling blue-grey eyes. "This is Mhairi, one of our new recruits; she will accompany you to Vigil's Keep."

Arietta grinned at Mhairi. "Nice to meet you!"

"Oh, it's an honour to meet you, Your Majesties," she said, bowing deeply.

"These two Wardens are Dante and Henri," Stroud said, pointing at two men stood to his side. Dante had a staff strapped to his back, squinty brown eyes and salt and pepper hair, Henri, on the other hand, had long straight mousey brown hair framing his long face.

"Unfortunately we won't be staying in Ferelden; pressing matters mean we must take ship at once," Stroud explained.

"Nothing serious, I trust?" Alistair asked, scowling slightly.

"I hope not, but I cannot say for certain." He turned to look at Arietta. "I wish you luck with the darkspawn, Commander."

With that Stroud, Dante and Henri all left, leaving Mhairi standing in the foyer twiddling with her thumbs.

"So, Mhairi, I'll get you a room organised; I wasn't planning on leaving for Vigil's Keep for a few days at least," Arietta disclosed.

"Thank you very much," Mhairi said cheerfully.

"I've already sent my second in command to Vigil's Keep," Arietta explained. "I do hope she doesn't run into any trouble on the road though," she added apprehensively.

Mhairi's eyes lit up in excitement. "Is that Surana the Slayer?"

Arietta smiled broadly. "The one and only."

"I can't wait to meet her!" she said loudly, and then her cheeks flushed. "Oh, meaning no offence to either of you, Your Majesties," she added quickly.

Alistair and Arietta chuckled.

"Is it true that she's as tall as a doorway? Does she really snap people in half with her mind? And wear the Archdemon's hide for armour?"

Arietta snorted then motion for Mhairi to follow her as she walked toward the guest quarters. "I see you've heard a lot of stories about her."

"And you of course, but the stuff I heard about Surana was much more… flamboyant," Mhairi said slightly embarrassed, as her pretty little cheeks reddened.

"Mmm, yes, Neri has quite the knack for spreading tall tales," Alistair mused.

When they first arrived in Denerim for the Landsmeet it had been to cheering crowds, all calling Neri's name, in thanks to her saving them at Ostagar with a barrier that stretched across the entire battlefield, allowing the army to flee. After Neri spared Loghain's life, those cheers had turned to insults. The people felt betrayed; they had wanted Loghain's head. It was only after Loghain died fighting the Archdemon, and Neri slewed the beast, that the people started to worship her again. But Neri always had a flair for drama, and so she had spread wild tales about her and the adventures they had been on. Each story Arietta heard from locals in taverns had become more and more preposterous as the months went on.

"So, none of it is true?" Mhairi asked, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice.

Arietta gave her a small smile. "Well, you will meet her soon enough, and then you can draw your own conclusions."

She asked Leliana to take Mhairi to her quarters, and invited the young recruit to join Alistair and her for dinner that evening.

"A sweet girl, don't you think?" Arietta asked her darling husband once they were alone once more.

"She is; I hope she survives her Joining," Alistair said bleakly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Arietta sighed. "I haven't had to preside over one before."

He touched her face, his hand stroking her cheek tenderly. "It's not pleasant, trust me. Maker, I was so nervous at yours; I didn't want you to die," he admitted with a goofy smile.

She quirked an eyebrow at him as she grinned. "Really?"

He gave her a wide smile. "Yes, I found myself… drawn to you, I suppose that is the right word."

She smirked. "I couldn't stop checking you out while we were at Ostagar… or later, when we first made camp, when I woke you to take watch, your chest was bare and your breeches were hugging your perky behind," she purred, running her hands up his muscled chest.

He flashed her a devious grin. "Even then you couldn't resist me, hmm?"

"Never!" She fisted his doublet and pulled down into a kiss.


	9. The Seventh Escape

The sun was setting, the warmth slowly turning to colour as it sunk below the hills. There was a gentle breeze in the air that tugged at his robes, almost willing him to jump as he sat on the edge of the windowsill. He took a deep breath as he looked down at the swirling fog below. He gulped. He knew this was a terrible idea, every bone in his body was screaming at him to return to his quarters in the Tower and hope the Templars didn't notice all of their bedding tied into one long rope. But he knew he didn't have the time to return now, they'd be finishing up with dinner soon. There was no going back, or at least no going back as a free man, not that he had been free in the Circle.

Solona Amell claimed things were better since the Blight ended, and the Circle had been given autonomy; there were certainly a lot less Templars about, as most were working at the new Tower. They were helping to build the village that would house mage families so that the mage children could go home on the weekends. That new Tower was still a long way off being completed, though, and until it  _was_  finished the Templars were technically still in charge of this Tower. He shouldn't complain though without Neri Surana, this escape of his wouldn't have been possible. Fewer Templars meant less patrols, and that meant he had been able to sneak into the Templar quarters where the only window in the Tower was.

Anders had only been released from his year in solitary a few days prior; it was enough time to learn Neri had ended the Blight and survived, and that she was on her way to a Keep in Amaranthine. So Anders was going to surprise her; it had been so long since he'd seen her. The last time he saw her, she was pinned against a pillar by a very angry sloth demon. Its magic had failed to put her to sleep, unlike her Warden friends, and Neri had taken on the damn thing alone. Anders had rained fire, lightning and ice down upon it, and then healed her. Neri's hair had been a tangled mess, her face had been smeared with blood and dust, but she had never looked more beautiful to Anders. And those robes,  _Maker_ , they were short, and they hugged her in all the right places. His cock twitched at the thought of them.

That had been the first time he had seen her since finding out about  _everything_ , about Ser Albert… He clenched his fists. Neri had been through so much, and all of it to protect Anders, and he hadn't been there for her in return. She sacrificed so much for him. And when he asked her why she did it, the words had stuck to her throat. He knew them though; three little words. He shook his head in frustration; he had wasted so much time running when he could have spent time with her. He would not make that mistake again.

This would be his most daring escape yet, one he always said he'd do with Neri. Her force magic would make the landing a lot softer; without her though, he'd have to improvise. He tugged on his rope one last time to make sure it was secure, and then he took a deep breath and dropped himself over the edge. He clung to the rope as his feet tried to find a foothold; his robes were not making that easy, nor the lanky staff strapped to his back. Slowly, he made his way down the rope, down the outside of the Tower. His arms were shaking and his breath was ragged, but he wasn't dead yet, so that was good.

He kept going and going, just picturing Neri's smiling face. He would stroll up to her, grab her and kiss her, he decided. They would pull a part breathless, breathing each other in, their hands in each other's hair. He would drag her to the nearest bed, uncaring, and for the first time in his life, he would make love. It was such a strange concept to him, but he knew that's how he felt about her. How could he not? They had grown up together, best friends and then lovers. They had been inseparable once, so much so that the mages and Templars called them the terrible two. Too long he had been without her; he wouldn't let anything separate them a moment longer, they'd be together again.

And then his rope ran out.

_Shit_.

He stared down at the fog below; it could be fifty feet, or five. The water was a little louder, but the lake never really made much noise. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.

_I have to chance it._

He decided his best bet was to push off from the wall, try to dive into the water rather than smash onto the rocks below. It was summer, so the water wouldn't be icy at least. He spun, so his back was to the wall, and pushed his feet up against it.

Then, he jumped.

It didn't take long for him to splash down into the water. He sank to the bottom and his leg scraped against a rock, making him cry out. Water flooded his mouth, but he kicked off the bottom of the lake and broke the surface with a choked gasp. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and then he swam toward the rocky tower base, and hauled himself onto the rocks. He flopped down on his back, and started to laugh.

_I'm alive!_

He pushed his wet hair away from his face, and sat up to check his leg. It was bleeding quite badly from a scrape down his calf, but a quick healing spell later and it was just a little sore. With that, he jumped back into the water, and swam for the shore. For once, he didn't need to worry about Templars spotting him swimming away; the fog would obscure him. He reached the shore and pressed his way through the treeline. He needed to put as much distance between him and the Circle as possible. The Templars probably already knew he was missing.

**…**

The sun was well and truly set now, and the sky was a greyish blue as the daylight slowly faded away. He came across a small cottage nestled amongst the trees; no candles were burning so he assumed the residents were asleep. He hopped the fence and stalked across the field. As he got closer he heard a horse nicker from the adjoining stable, and Anders stood in the clearing pondering what to do. If he had a horse, he would reach Amaranthine a lot faster, and it would make outrunning the Templars much easier too. But he didn't like to steal, especially something as valuable as a horse.

Curious, he pushed the stable door open and entered quietly. The barn wasn't very big, every inch of wall and ceiling was used to hang tools and saddles on. The horse kicked its gate, drawing his attention.

"Hello, boy," he said as he stroked the horse's face. It whinnied and stomped a hoof. "A girl then?" He smirked.

She was a beautiful horse, a gorgeous grey colour with a black mane.

_I can leave a note…_

He grabbed a saddle and entered her pen. He'd learnt how to properly saddle and care for a horse at a farm where he stayed on one of his earlier escapes. The old couple had been so kind to him, and the Templars had beaten them for hiding an apostate. Anders clenched his fists at the intrusive memory.

He heard a door open and close outside.

_Andraste's flaming knicker weasels!_

He leapt onto the horse's back and opened the door of her pen; she let out a loud neigh, and the barn door opened. An older man walked in holding a candle, his eyes scanned the room, and then he saw his horse and Anders sitting atop her. The man's eyes went white with surprise, and Anders spurred the horse into motion. They charged past the man, just clipping him, and then they were out the door and charging across the field, with the cool night air rushing past his ears. Anders glanced over his shoulder to shout an apology but couldn't see the old man, and then he noticed the flames beginning to lick their way across the barn floor.

"Whoa!" He pulled on the reins.

The horse stopped and dithered on the edge of the field. The flames were a brilliant orange as they engulfed the interior of the barn, and there was still no sign of the old man.

_Damn it._

He jumped off the horse and tied her to the fence, before sprinting toward the barn. He found the old man unconscious on the floor, and dragged him to safety. A quick rejuvenation spell had the man waking up; he looked confused, and then he saw the flames engulfing his barn.

"My children! My wife!" he choked, bolting upright.

Anders gasped. "In the house?"

The man tried to stand, but Anders pushed him back down and ran for the front door. With a blast of ice and a kick to the door he was inside. The house was filling with smoke, and it stung his eyes and tickled his throat as he raced up the stairs.

"Who -?" a woman cried, rushing out of a bedroom as she desperately held a scarf over her nose.

"Get out. I'll get your children. Go!" he urged, turning his eyes to the two doors in front of him.

She ran down the stairs, and Anders went into the first bedroom. He grabbed the toddler still sleeping soundly, and then ran into the other room. A little boy stared at him with wide eyes from beneath his covers. Anders grabbed his hand and hurried to the stairs. Suddenly, the ceiling gave way, and a massive beam crashed down onto the steps in front of them, blocking their exit.

"Fuck," he cried, looking around desperately for a way out.

"Swear," the little boy mumbled from his side as he clutched Anders' hand.

Anders laughed nervously, and ran for the wife's bedroom. He put the sleepy toddler down and let go of the other kid's hand. Then he grabbed a chair and smashed the glass in the window. He stared down at the ground - only two storeys - they'd be fine. He grabbed some covers and blankets and threw them out the window.

"Catch them!" he ordered desperately to the two parents hugging one another on the grass.

The wife and husband ran over and picked up the blankets, staring up worriedly at Anders.

Anders picked up the toddler first.

"We're going for a ride. Just close your eyes and relax," he said reassuringly.

The toddler nodded sleepily and sucked on his thumb. He didn't seem to comprehend what was happening, even as their room filled with smoke.

He held the toddler out the window as low as he could, and then let him softly drop; his parents caught him with a relieved cry.

Anders turned to the little boy. "Your turn, kid."

The boy shook his head, his eyes wide with fear, but another loud crash from the hallway sent him running into Anders' arms.

"They'll catch you," Anders promised him.

"Will they catch you too?" the boy asked, his large brown eyes dotted with sleeping dust.

Anders faltered; he hadn't thought about his escape yet.

"I'll figure something out," he promised him with a big smile.

He grabbed the kid and held him out the window, just as he did before, and dropped him; he too, landed safely in his parents' arms.

He scanned the room as he coughed and gasped for air. He grabbed the mattress, and tossed it out the window. He sat on a windowsill for the second time that night, and then jumped.

He landed on the mattress easily; it was the bounce off onto the hard grass that made his arm crack. He bit down his scream as he rolled on the ground in agony. The woman ran over to him and gingerly touched his arm, making him hiss.

"It's broken," she said helpfully.

" _Really_ , and here I thought the bone was supposed to stick out like that!" he sniped. She glared at him, her muddy brown eyes hard like the baked earth. "Sorry." He looked down at the wound and bit his lip.

_This is going to hurt, a lot._

He let out a wave of healing magic and the woman recoiled in fear. He ignored her as he slowly pushed the bone back into place.

"You're an apostate?" the man said, the tone of his voice sounded shocked, but Anders stayed staring at his arm, focusing on setting his snapped bone.

"Only just," he gasped out, gritting his teeth. "I'm more of an escape artist." He grimaced as the bone finally slotted back into place.

"Why did you escape?" the little boy asked.

Anders looked at the little boy and smiled slightly. "I did it for a girl," he admitted as he caught his breath.

The man folded his arms, but Anders couldn't see his face as the fire whooshed across the rest of their house, casting him in shadow.

The man looked back at the flames with a sigh, as his wife held their children close.

"Is she pwetty?" the little boy asked through a yawn.

Anders pulled his eyes away from the bright orange flames engulfing the night sky, and nodded. "Very."

"Must be special to risk your life like this?" the man gruffly asked, turning away from his burning home to look down at Anders.

Anders nodded. "She is. You probably know her as Surana the Slayer."

The man and woman both gasped, their eyes wide as they stared down at him.

"To me, she's just Neri," Anders added with a longing sigh.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, and finished up by knitting the skin back together.

"Where were you heading?" the man asked.

"Amaranthine." Anders stood and rubbed his arm, stretching it gently to check it was fully healed. "Would you like me to take a look at your kids? I'm a healer, and they inhaled a fair amount of smoke."

She woman nodded shyly.

Anders kneeled down and checked both the boys over; thankfully, no harm had been done.

"Will your Warden girlfriend compensate us for the house you just burned down?" the man questioned, folding his arms, and scowling slightly.

Anders stood back up and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "Well, I'm sure she would if I explained it to her…"

The man nodded. "Then take Elia, and reach your girlfriend before the Templars catch you."

Anders frowned. "Elia?"

"The horse you were trying to steal," the man mused.

Anders stared at him. "You... you'd let me have your horse?"

" _Borrow_ ," the man corrected with a slight smile. "But yes, if it means we will get our house back. And you seem like an alright sort, for a horse thief; look after Elia and you may borrow her."

Anders grinned, rushing forward to shake their hands. "Thank you, I promise I'll look after her. I've looked after horses before, and Neri will get you a new house, I swear it."

They nodded. "Off yah go then," the man said with a sigh.

"Where will you stay?" Anders asked them with genuine concern.

The wife pointed down the hill. "We got neighbours who will see us safe. Go, worry about yourself instead."

He nodded and climbed back on the horse. He gave them a small wave goodbye, and then galloped off into the darkness.


	10. Order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos! This is the first chapter that introduces some of the Orlesian Wardens...it's still before the Keep is attacked though so don't panic too much about learning their names or what have you. Little bit of F/F action at the end too.

"No way!" the burly Marcher, Angus, said, spitting food quite some distance across the table they all shared.

Coline pulled a face, and flinched away from his grotesquery.

Edd, another Marcher, slammed his flagon down on the old table, sending foam dribbling down the edge of the cup. "I'm tellin' yah! I heard she's ten feet all with glowing red eyes!"

Coline rolled her eyes. She had never been a fan of the Marchers; they were loud and filthy, and today was no exception. The fact that they believed these ridiculous rumours just added to her poor opinion of them.

"Don't be absurd! Stroud said she's an elf, how many ten foot elves 'av you seen!?" Angus argued, leaning over the table, spitting a little as he yelled.

Coline took a gently sip of her fruit tea; the delicate flavours calmed the discontent that had settled over her.

"They say she punched the Archdemon square in the jaw with her stone fist!" Edd boomed, letting out an equally booming laugh.

"Her appearance is irrelevant," Tamsin reminded them. "The fact that she claims to have  _survived_  the final blow, however, is an outrage," she said, her chocolate eyes scowling down into her glass of deep red wine.

Tamsin was a Nevarran noble, until her father found out she was in fact a bastard and not his, and disinherited her. She had grown up her entire life with others serving her, getting whatever she wanted, and obeying whatever her parents told her to do; she hadn't coped very well on her own, but then she had joined the Wardens where she had a sense of purpose once again.

"She's a mage isn't she?" Joshua spat venomously, his eyes narrowing as the vein in his forehead throbbed slightly. "Perhaps it was some sort of blood ritual?" he growled, stabbing a fork into his venison angrily.

Little Ella folded her arms and pouted at the ex-Templar. "Not everything involves blood magic, Josh!" she chastised, but everyone could hear the hurt in her voice.

Coline didn't know much about Joshua, only that he had served in the Order for some years, and before that he had been a Templar. She  _did_  know he was a colossal dick though. Ella, on the other hand, was the sweetest person anyone was ever likely to meet, and their best spirit healer.

Jaque sighed in exasperation, rubbing at his temples in small circles. "I think the most likely explanation is simply that Riordan or this Loghain fellow took the final blow, and for whatever reason, this Surana has decided to take the credit."

As one of the older Wardens, Jaque had been in the Order for most of his adult life, and was not likely to believe ridiculous rumours; Coline rather liked the old rogue.

"Agreed!" Tamsin said, her dark eyes twinkling brightly. "She's obviously an attention whore, with a title like that!"

Jaque let out a throaty chuckle. "How did it go now? Surana, Slayer of the Archdemon, Saviour of Denerim, and Ender of the Fifth Blight?"

They all chuckled to themselves.

"An absurd title for sure! I bet she loves these tall tales being spread about her; it must be quite the ego boost," Tamsin scornfully stated, turning her nose up at the idea of this Slayer person.

"Are you supposin' she's ugly then?" Edd asked, with an unusually doleful expression on his face.

Tamsin rolled her eyes and shrugged. "It would not surprise me."

"You don't know that, she could be very pretty," Ella said, in her delicate as a flower voice.

"When she arrivin'?" Angus questioned through the food in his mouth.

"Any day, I think. The queen and her, I heard," Jaque explained gruffly, his voice raspy with age.

Tamsin groaned loudly, her hand finding her face to rub at her mocha skin. "I still can't believe there are two Wardens on the throne here. Did they not get the memo that Wardens are  _supposed_  to stay out of political matters?" she sighed.

Jaque grunted. "They were new recruits, weren't they? Green as grass and now they have titles sprouting out their ears. You have to give them credit where it's due, they profited quite well from the Blight, or so it seems."

"Oh aye, and I heard the First Warden ain't happy!" Angus said astutely as he waved the bread in his hand around, letting the crumbs drop to the table.

Tamsin let out a derisive snort. "Oh, like he'll do anything; he's far too busy up in the Anderfels to give a damn about the Wardens this far south."

"Har! Well, screw him; we do all the hard work!" Edd bellowed, grinning wildly.

"I'll drink to that!" Angus slammed his flagon into Edd's, sending their foul drinks sloshing over the edges and onto the table to sink into the old oak.

Coline pushed her chair back dramatically, rising to her feet in a fury. "Enough!" she yelled. "No matter what you think of this  _Surana_ , she  _is_  a Warden, and I will have this place spotless for her, do you hear?" She glared daggers at the two Marchers. "This table is filthy, and you all look disgusting; make yourselves presentable! These Wardens haven't had much contact with other members of the Order, do you want them to think we are savages!?"

They all mumbled about cleaning, and Coline nodded curtly, before walking away in a huff.

She returned to her chambers, stripping off her doeskin tunic and leather leggings, and walked gracefully to the bathing chamber. She pulled at the pump several times; the hot water poured down into the ivory tub, and the steam made Coline relax almost instantly. She reached into her cabinet and pulled out several scented oils and soaps. She poured a little of her almond, apricot and amber oil into the steamy waters, and then grabbed her coconut and honey hair cream; Ella was a natural herbalist, and made the most wonderful bath washes. It reminded her of home; there had been a little soap shop on the corner near her house; each day she would walk past it, and each day it would smell wildly different to the previous. She always purchased a new scent each week; it was not befitting of a lady to smell the same for more than a few days, at least not in Orlais.

She slid into the tub with a contented sigh, submerging under the water, the heat relieving her aches and worries. She scrubbed herself clean; being near those vile men always made her feet dirty down to her bones. She lathered the cream through her vibrant dark violet hair, untangling the knots gently. And then she laid back and relaxed.

There was a gentle tap at the door, two knocks followed by four quick ones:  _Tamsin_.

"Enter," Coline called out, slightly annoyed the Nevarran would interrupt her now.

She heard the door open and close, and then Tamsin poked her head around the doorway, smiling brightly with a knowing glint in her eyes. "I thought you might be in here."

"They are disgusting," Coline retorted, even though there was no need; Tamsin felt the same way.

"I know, Vi," she said, using Coline's hair-based nickname.

Coline dunked under the water, running her hands through her hair to wash out the cream. She surfaced and rung out her hair. Then she hopped out of the bath, dried off and left the cream towel wrapped tightly around her torso as her wet hair fell over her face.

"Take off your clothes," Coline ordered to the Nevarran who was watching her eagerly.

Coline paid her no attention as she did so; instead she looked through her cupboard for the perfect toy. A smile touched her lips as her eyes spotted her thin leather riding crop.

She turned back around, running her eyes up Tamsin's naked form; the Nevarran had darker skin than Coline, and a river of brown hair that flowed half way down her back. Her copper eyes were as dark as onyx as she stood, biting her bottom lip, already quivering in anticipation. Coline craned her head to the side and sauntered around the tub, running the crop along the tub's edge.

"Lean over the bath," Coline whispered forcefully.

Tamsin licked her lips, and sank to her knees over the bath.

"Tell me what you want," Coline rasped, her own eyes darkening at the sight of the woman bent over so erotically, and completely under Coline's control.

"You," whispered Tamsin, her breath ragged now.

"How do you want me?" Coline asked huskily, bending over the edge opposite Tamsin, so her breasts cupped against her towel.

"In whatever way you want me," Tamsin said desperately.

Coline arched an eyebrow and smiled smugly. "Even if I were to fuck you with this riding crop?" Coline stood and walked around the edge of the tub to stand beside Tamsin.

"Y-yesss," Tamsin moaned.

Coline spanked her ass, and the Nevarran let out a little yelp.

"Beg me," Coline ordered roughly.

"Please, Vi, please," Tamsin sobbed, as she squeezed her thighs together to relieve some of the pressure building between them.

"Ah, ah ahh." Coline spanked her again, and Tamsin cried out. "Spread your legs," she demanded.

She leant over Tamsin, pulled her hair back roughly, and kissed the Nevarran hard on the lips, and then she pulled away sharply, leaving the Nevarran gasping and begging for more.

"I'm going to fuck you long and hard with this riding crop, and you're going to cum screaming my name," Coline growled.

Tamsin nodded as she trembled beneath her.


	11. Numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and leaving kudos and all that good stuff. And my thanks to ElyssaCousland for her excellent beta skills, this fic would be in a sorry state indeed without her!

Her toes were numb, her fingers were numb, her nose was numb, and so were her ears. She hadn't trudged through snow this thick since the last time she was here, and that was before the Landsmeet. The cold was seeping into her boots despite her three layers of socks, and her poor mabari, Barkspawn, was up to his stomach in snow. She sighed, looking up at the sky; the light was starting to dwindle, turning into a fuzzy haze, and the darkness crept out of the edges and crevices of the mountains, stretching toward her slowly.

But she was close now, close to the old Warden Keep.

She finally walked under the portcullis, but found nobody in the yard; Levi and his family must have called it a night. She didn't blame them; it was a bitter night, with a wind chilling the air considerably. She climbed the steps, and pushed the heavy oaken doors open; they creaked loudly as they shut behind her. She stamped the snow off her boots, and brushed Barkspawn down. He shook, spraying her in cold droplets, and she shooed him away with a groan. He bounded down the corridor happily, seeming to know exactly where she was heading.

They made their way to the back of the Keep, across the old stone bridge, and into the tower. She pushed open the doors into the study, and took stock of all the changes made since her first and last visit. There were piles of books on the cabinets, vials and mixtures were scattered over the work tops, and the old mage himself was scribbling away on some parchment at the back of the room.

"Afternoon, Vernie!" she shouted cheerfully.

He turned his wrinkled head and regarded her with a small smile. "Greetings Neria. I had heard you stopped the Blight; very good."

She chuckled. "Yep!" she couldn't help but add, "Took the final blow myself."

His eyes bulged momentarily and then he frowned. "And how did you survive, I wonder? Not blood magic?"

"Some might call it that," she teased.

His brows arched and his eyes glistened like pools of water in the sunshine. "Sounds interesting," he croaked.

She grinned. "Before you get any ideas I can't help you replicate it; I wasn't even really involved," she said as she absentmindedly flicked through one of his dusty old tomes.

"Tell me what you know, at least," he said attentively.

Her tawny eyes gleamed at him. "Well, there was this witch in our group: Morrigan," she began.

Neri went on to explain more about Morrigan, and the Dark Ritual that the witch had offered her; she explained how Loghain had slept with Morrigan to produce a child, and that he had died anyway, leaving Neri to take the final blow.

Avernus watched her silently, his intelligent eyes focused completely on her words.

She had come here wanting answers, not just to tell him a story though. "I can… sense the taint flowing through the veins of Wardens now," she said nervously. His eyes widened for a moment before returning to their usual saggy state. "It freaked me out at first, but I'm used to it now, or at least I know what Arietta and Alistair's taint 'feels' like." She shrugged.

"You can sense mine as well?" he asked curiously.

She nodded her head feebly. "Rustling leaves," she blurted. He gave her a puzzled expression. "That's what yours 'feels' like," she explained, her hand rubbing her neck.

He hummed. "Let me take a blood sample, if you please."

She sighed, slightly exasperated. "I'll have no blood left to give, the amount you take each time! What do you do with it all anyway? Drink it?" she scoffed as she pulled off her vambrace.

He chuckled. "There's little benefit in drinking another Warden's blood, unfortunately."

She stared at him. "I hope you're joking."

He smiled and motioned for her to sit. He placed a flask under her arm and made the incision. Her blood started to run into the flask, and Avernus watched it intently.

She looked around the room awkwardly. "Okay, starting to think you're  _not_  joking…"

He guffawed. "Fear not. I won't drink your blood; at least not in front of you," he said darkly, but there was still a smile tugging at his wrinkled old lips.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You have an odd sense of humour. I like you."

He let out a huff of decrepit laughter. "You'd be the first in a very long time," he said more seriously, a hint of melancholy in his withered voice.

She twiddled her thumbs. "So, figured out a cure yet?"

He scowled. "No. The taint is a fickle mistress. It would help if I had Wardens to experiment on, but that's frowned upon," he sniped bitterly. Arietta had forbidden him from using any unethical means to conduct his work.

"I'll be going to Vigil's Keep soon; if there are any Wardens I don't like, I'll send them to you." She smirked.

His blue eyes sparkled once more. "So, tell me about the Archdemon."

She explained the battle of Denerim: Arietta leading the armies, taking back the city gates, their killing of the darkspawn generals. Arietta heading to the Palace to rescue Alistair, who had foolishly stayed behind after refusing to work alongside Loghain, while Neri headed to Fort Drakon, and finally the dragon's eventual death, at her hands. Avernus seemed interested, but she wasn't sure if he was just being polite so they weren't sitting in silence.

With the flask finally full, he dabbed her arm with a few drops of a health poultice and she bandaged it up. He moved quietly to the back of the room and began tinkering with bottles, potions and powders. She sat awkwardly on the chair, swinging her legs and humming to herself like a child might do.

"Were there any other changes?" he murmured curiously, his back still to her as he worked away.

She thought for a moment. "Well, there was the blood magic I used recently…"

"The spells I taught you?" he asked, but didn't turn to face her.

"Yeah, see, I used that  _blood fury_  spell on the Archdemon, throwing blood in its face to stop it eating me." He looked at her with an amused expression. "And that worked all well and good, obviously," she indicated to her entire  _uneaten_  body with a smirk. "But later this Templar assassin tried to kill me, and I killed him with the blood…"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "How so?"

"Well… it strangled him, I guess? It snaked up his body, and I filled his lungs with it."

Avernus craned his head to the side pensively, but gave no other indication of his thoughts, and then he went back to his flasks and potions. His shoulders looked tense, and she realised something must be wrong.

"Avernus?" she asked quietly.

He didn't answer, so she hopped down onto her feet and padded over to him cautiously.

"Avernus?" she said again, fear making her sound squeakier than usual. "What is it?"

Avernus glanced down at the beaker in his hand and grimaced.

She moved next to him and glared at him. "Well?" she said impatiently, her hands tapping on his worktop.

He sighed, the breath seemingly deflating his entire body, his shoulders sagging, and his back arching. "The taint in your blood is much more advanced than it should be for a Warden as new as you," he explained.

She swallowed thickly and frowned at him.

He pointed at several beakers. "These are samples from three different Wardens, and yourself," he explained.

She ran her eyes across them; they ranged from bright red to almost black.

"These are Arietta's and Alistair's," he said pointing to two bright red beakers. "This is your old sample," he said lifting a darkish red flask. "Magic tends to make it a little darker," he explained. "This is mine." He lifted a near-black flask up. "And this is yours now…" He pointed at a  _very_  dark red jar.

She gasped. "That – that can't be right?"

"Indeed, and yet, it is," he hummed thoughtfully.

She shook her head, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "How did this happen?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps it is the Ritual's magic? Or the blood magic in your veins, or maybe just simply touching the Archdemon's soul briefly did this to you? I do not know."

She sat down hard on a chair and stared at her palms. "What – what does this mean for me?" she almost whispered.

He rubbed his wrinkled head. "Blood this colour typically comes from Wardens who have been in the Order fifteen years or more."

She gripped the chair to stop from falling from it.

"I fear you may have less than fifteen years before your Calling," he revealed softly.

She whimpered, and steadied herself again as nausea overwhelmed her senses.

He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she pushed him away, rushing to stand on unsteady feet. "You – you can fix this? You can reverse it, cure it!" she said, fighting back tears. He started to shake his head sadly. "There must be something you can do!" she said desperately.

He stepped toward her. "I will try but –"

"There's a shorter deadline now, where there wasn't before, and you might not get it done in time?" she guessed bitterly.

He nodded grimly.

"Fifteen years…" She shook her head angrily.

"You will be a very proficient Warden now though, older Wardens can distinguish the different types of darkspawn from their taint alone, you already mentioned being able to sense other Wardens too, and your blood magic will only get stronger," he said, trying to lighten the dark mood that had settled over her.

"But the nightmares will only worsen, and then I'll have to go to the Deep Roads, alone, to die." She swallowed, nearly choking as her throat constricted.

He nodded. "There are ways to prolong life…"

She scoffed, her ochre eyes seemingly spitting acid at him. "I won't do what  _you_  did," she snarled.

He sighed. "Very well."

She wiped a tear that had broken the barriers of her eyes. "Even if you can't cure me, you need to find a way to cure Arietta and Alistair of their infertility. They  _need_  an heir, sooner rather than later."

"I will do everything I can," he replied as he eyed her sympathetically.

"See that you do." She turned to leave. "Good night."

"It's late; shouldn't you stay the night?"

She laughed bitterly. "What would be the point? I won't sleep."

She stormed out of the Keep with Barkspawn at her heels.

It was pitch black by the time she made it down the mountain, and the faint glow of her purple dragon staff was the only thing lighting her way. It was only as the ground turned back to hard dirt ground that she realised she was off of the treacherous mountain paths. She came to a halt and stared down at the frozen dirt, tears filling her eyes. She dropped to her knees, and Barkspawn nuzzled her face, so she pulled him into a hug, sobbing into his fur.

Her legs were aching when she finally pulled away from her hound and forced herself back to her feet. She desperately wanted someone to comfort her...to hold her. But she didn't have Zevran's warm embrace to run to; he was in Antiva chasing leads on Deon, and their relationship was…on hold. She didn't have Anders either; she and the healer had been close once, but he was still in solitary and she hadn't seen him for a year. She didn't have Arietta or Alistair either. She was alone. she clenched her fists, she had gotten herself through worse things than this on her own before.

She sighed, and forced herself to take a step forward, and then another; she would _not_  mope around in the dirt. She was strong. She was a survivor. There was still hope; she would cling to that small comfort.


	12. Introductions

The sun was high above her when she felt the scratching of darkspawn at the edge of her mind. She groaned, but decided she should check it out instead of ignoring it, despite having slept poorly for a few days now. She took a deep breath and willed the blurriness at the edges of her vision to  _fuck off_ , and then jogged through the trees as quietly as she could.

"You did that on purpose!" a woman squealed, her voice posh and Orlesian.

Neri slowed to a halt in the tree-line, taking in the scene before her. There was a group of three well-armed individuals, two male and one female, standing around a trickling stream.

"I am  _so_  sorry, my lady, it won't happen again," a red haired man replied, also with an Orlesian accent, although it was much softer than the woman's and dripping with sarcasm as he bowed deeply to her.

"Ugh!" the woman shouted in disgust, her short violet hair shun as she shook her head in annoyance. "Why don't you go back to your biscuit tin, you ginger–"

"The deer went this way," a man with a mess of black curls a top his head cut her off, rising from his crouched position at the river bank.

"Then lead on," the ginger man said, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes travelled down the black haired man's body.

It was only as the violet haired woman adjusted her cloak that Neri realised who they were and why she had felt the presence of darkspawn when clearly there were none around. They were the Orlesian Grey Wardens. She could see two griffon's on the woman's chest piece - their Orlesian accents really should have given it away, but hey, she hadn't slept for days so she wasn't at her best.

Barkspawn wandered down to the stream to drink, and in one sharp motion the woman lifted her bow and took aim.

"Don't!" Neri screamed, lunging forward protectively.

The woman jerked her bow up to aim at Neri instead.

"Who are you?" the black haired man asked suspiciously, a hand on his dagger - just one dagger,  _how odd_.

Neri lifted her palms in innocence. "A fellow Grey Warden," she said calmly.

The black haired man – apparently the leader – pushed the woman's bow down and stepped forward. "You must be Surana?" he asked, his stormy grey eyes scanning her body.

She nodded. "Yes, but please call me Neri."

The black haired man straightened. "I am Rafael, one of the three Lieutenants at Vigil's Keep. This is Maxime," he said as he pointed to the ginger haired man, who was now grinning. "And this is Coline Rodin," he said, motioning to the archer.

"Nice to meet you all; this is my mabari, Barkspawn." Her hound barked happily and ran over to Maxime to sniff at his hand.

"I see he lives up to his name," Maxime said, a huge white grin spreading across his face through his thick beard, as he scratched Barkspawn behind the ear.

She used this time to take stock of the Wardens appearances.

Rafael was gorgeous; thick stubble smothered his jaw, chin and upper lip, his tanned skin brought out his bright grey eyes, and there was a tiny scar running down from his eyebrow to his left cheek that made him look grizzled and rugged and –  _Focus, Neri._

Maxime was a tall lean man, with bright orange hair and his thick messy beard matched the hair on his head. It was a stark contrast to his pale complexion and dark blue eyes. He was wearing a staff on his back, the orb at the top glowing orange and blue, the two colours swirling but never quite mixing.

Coline was eyeing her suspiciously with dark brown eyes; the nimble woman could clearly move dangerously fast. She had petite features, but was taller than Neri, with high cheek bones and a narrow face. Her dark hair had a brilliant purple sheen to it and matched the huge white long bow she still held in her hands adorned with purple and gold markings.

"So, you just happened upon us, did you?" Coline asked, clearly still suspicious of Neri and none too happy about her unexpected entrance.

Neri smiled coyly. "Oh, no. I mistook you for a darkspawn; easy mistake to make, really," Neri said, trying to hold back her smirk.

Coline crinkled her nose. "And how is that an 'easy' mistake to make?"

"I heard the strange noises you were making," Neri hedged. Coline made a disgusted snort. "Yep, that was the sound."

Maxime burst out laughing, and Coline shot him an unimpressed glare.

Rafael stood between them eyeing Neri with interest still.

She cleared her throat, trying to avoid his severe gaze. "So, out hunting were you?"

"Yes," Rafael said, his voice was smooth yet raspy, like waves lapping at a rocky beach. "The Keep's reserves are getting low."

Neri chuckled. "Well, that's hardly a surprise; Wardens eat like animals!" she said light-heartedly.

"You should see what twenty of us can do at dinner time, it's not pretty," Maxime joked.

"Coline and I can continue the hunt," Rafael said curtly. He turned to Maxime. "Can you escort Neri to the Keep?"

Maxime beamed at him and nodded his head enthusiastically. "I'm rubbish at hunting anyway! Let's go, Neri!" He rushed forward and grabbed her hand, dragging her off into the trees back toward the main road.

"It's such a pleasure to meet you!" he said jubilantly, grinning down at her. "You're all we've been talking about for weeks! Well, months, but more so these past few weeks," he blurted in a rush.

"I dread to think what you've all heard," she said shaking her head and rolling her eyes slightly.

"Well, they said you were ten feet tall, so that's obviously false, no offence of course! They said you had glowing red eyes, but they appear to be brown, so perhaps that's false too? What about using the Archdemon's claw as a toothpick? And did you really punch the Archdemon? And did you–"

"Maxime," she interrupted, smiling widely at him.

"Oh, sorry!" he said as his cheeks turned red.

"It's fine. I can tell you all about the Blight but later on, okay? Most of those rumours are untrue, I made them up, for fun, but also to scare people into leaving me alone," she said with a quiet chuckle.

His shoulders sagged a little, and his grin weakened.

"I did, however, turn the Archdemon's scales into a nice set of armour…" she teased.

His face lit up like a beacon.

She undid her cloak, and showed him the dark purple and black scales coating her body.

He gasped, grabbing her by the shoulders so he could get a better look. "That's gorgeous!" he exclaimed, as a hand reached down to stroke her chest piece. "Was the Archdemon really that colour? I always imaged it to be midnight black or blood red or something!"

She nodded; his grins were infectious, and her own spread across her lips. "It really was. It shot purple flames out of its mouth too!"

He looked at her in awe. "I wish I could have seen  _that_!"

She smiled crookedly. "It wasn't so great when those purple flames were being shot  _at_  you though."

"No. I suppose not!" he chuckled, a deep rumble in his throat. She wrapped herself in her cloak again and they carried on walking. "You haven't met many Wardens, have you?" he asked, bubbling with energy. "This must be so exciting! You finally get to meet a whole lot of us!"

"It is," she agreed, smiling widely at him. "How many are there at the Keep?"

"Ohhh, twenty, or so. Gable is still in charge, a Ferelden soldier, army born and raised, hence why we were given ranks, but Rafe – Rafael is the only lieutenant left at the Keep. Kristoff had to go take care of things in Amaranthine, and Stroud left for Denerim, with Dante, Henri and Mhairi a few days ago - Mhairi's one of our new recruits, she's a sweetheart," he said energetically.

Just listening to him talk at such speeds was making her feel tired, but she had still noted the affectionate nickname he nearly used for Rafael, but decided not to comment.

"That's more Wardens than Ferelden has had for quite some time. How long are you all planning on staying?" she asked earnestly.

"Oh, I'm not sure, to be honest! We need to push back these darkspawn, they've been quite a nuisance I understand, and hopefully that won't take too long. And we're also here to help recruit new Wardens, train them up, that sort of thing, so there's a better chance of them surviving the Joining," he said a little more sullenly.

They reached the main road and continued walking, Barkspawn ran on ahead, smelling and then peeing on every bush and tree he passed.

"Have you been to Ferelden before?" she asked the bearded mage at her side.

"No, never; I grew up in the White Spire, in Val Royeaux, have you heard of it?"

She nodded.

"It's so beautiful there; from the top you can see the all of the city, glistening in the sunshine. I only left it three years ago, been to a few places since then, only ever in Orlais though, and then we moved to Jader during the Blight here. We were all ready for battle, but none came, and then the Blight was over," he said smiling down at her, his dark eyes smiling too.

"Sounds like I ruined all your fun." She smirked, bopping his shoulder with hers.

"Absolutely!" he said pouting. "I was looking forward to fighting those vile monsters!"

She chuckled. "So, how did you end up joining the Wardens?"

"Oh! Stroud was visiting the Circle; I remember being amazed by his moustache, it seemed to have a life of its own, sometimes it would be standing to attention, other times it was drooping low over his lip." He laughed at the memory. "I wonder how he keeps it in such immaculate condition?" he pondered aloud. "Oh sorry, you haven't met him, have you? Anyway, he came to recruit a talented mage, or mages. I think even then they were worried about a Blight. Every single mage gathered in the grand hall, a beautiful room; every wall is decorated with paintings of Orlesian history, it's breath-taking. So, the Wardens pitted mage against mage to see who the best was."

Neri arched an eyebrow and grinned sardonically. "Let me guess, you won?"

"Not even close!" he guffawed. "But, I had so much enthusiasm he asked if I'd like to be a Warden and use all my energy to kill darkspawn instead of pissing off everyone else in the Spire! He also said I might be useful at talking darkspawn's ears off," he added with a giggle. "I'd never left the Circle before so I thought why not!? It would be an adventure!"

She chuckled. She liked his enthusiasm; it was a refreshing change from…  _everything_ else _._

"And have you had many adventures so far?" she ask inquisitively, her smile genuine.

"Oooh some! We had to fight this massive troll near the mountains, it had these huge tusks protruding from its mouth, and carried a massive club – which was actually just a tree – and attacked us with it! We all scrambled to take it down as quickly as possible, it was quite a fight! And the thing was so tall! It stood well above the treeline, and the ground shook with every step it took. We eventually managed to tangle its legs and pull it to the ground to finish it off."

"Why did it need killing?"

"It kept attacking one of our Warden bases! We later found out that his mate was stuck in the cave system below the Keep, and he was just trying to reach her. Rather tragic really. The female's arm had been stuck between two rocks. When we found her corpse she was armless, and had bled out," he said grievously.

"That's horrible!"

"It was; we felt awful for weeks, and kept regular patrols of the cave system after that to make sure nothing like it ever happened again."

"What else have you fought? Orlais has some crazy animals," Neri said in awe, remembering all of the books she read about their neighbouring country.

"We had to fight wyverns once! The damn things had fallen into the Deep Roads and were lost, but they were attacking regular Legion and Warden routes so they had to be dealt with. It was a horrible fight in the confined quarters of the Deep Roads, with them spitting poison at us, but we eventually killed them all."

"A part from that, it's not been very exciting, to be honest!" he continued. "Nothing like your adventures, I'm sure!" He grinned broadly at her. "It's nice though, to have the Wardens; we're a family, and I cannot wait for you to meet them all!" he said, almost jumping up and down excitedly.

"Well, as long as they're all like you and less like Coline, I think I'll fit in just fine!" she giggled.

Maxime snorted. "She's not so bad. I mean, she's deadly, don't get me wrong; she poisoned her step-mother after she ruined Coline's life. And she knows how to use that bow of hers!" he laughed.

"She's your typical Orlesian noble; snobby, entitled and a total control freak," he explained. "Don't ever insult her hair or clothes, or she will take her revenge," he warned playfully. "I once made a comment about her hair looking windswept – there were gale force winds outside, of course it looked windswept! – I woke up the next morning with all of my facial hair replaced with blue ink; they gave me a permanent frown too. Everyone kept saying 'cheer up grumps' or 'why so blue?' It took weeks to come off!" He fell silent and frowned. "I've forgotten my original point."

Neri guffawed. "Something about her not being so bad… I think," she mused.

"Oh! Yeah… she's better once she trusts you," he said, smiling crookedly.

"And Rafael?"

"Mmmm," he said with a wistful look in his eyes.

She arched an eyebrow, an amused smile widening on her lips, and cleared her throat.

"Oh!" His cheeks turned red. "He's a good man, he takes being a Warden  _very_  seriously. Don't tell him I told you this, but he does have a sense of humour and he has a heart of gold, it's just buried deep down underneath his stoic, calm, chiselled demeanour," he said with a smile. "He was orphaned from a very young age on the streets of Val Royeaux, he went through some pretty hard times… so it takes him a while to trust others, but once you have it, he's the most loyal person I know."

She nodded her head. The road curved, the Keep coming into view ahead of them, and her eyes went wide as she took in the impressive structure.

Maxime looked down at her and grinned. "Nearly there!" he clapped excitedly. "Have you been to the Keep before?"

"Nope," she said smiling up at him.

He took a deep breath, about to go into a long explanation no doubt, and she started to laugh; he shot her a look and inhaled again. "Well, it's fairly spacious. There are dozens of bedrooms on the upper floors; each room has a massive double bed, sofas, a writing desk, and a walk in wardrobe, as well as an en-suite – they all have hot water plumbing too! It comes from the hot springs nearby. There are gorgeous fireplaces as well. I am telling you, there is nothing better than curling up in front of the open fire with the man you love–" He cleared his throat. "Or woman, and just watching the flames pop and crack."

"You can definitely tell the Keep was owned by nobility," he mused. "And you must go up to the battlements some time! The view is incredible, especially at sundown or rise – the fields come alive with colour, bright greens, oranges, and yellows – it is breath taking," he said wistfully.

"There are three main halls," he went on to explain. "The biggest and most spacious is the main hall, in the centre of the Keep. Off of it are the offices, studies, and libraries. The left, or West Wing, holds the kitchens, store rooms and dining hall, which has a massive table stretched across its length, big enough for all of the Wardens to sit around. And that is always quite an event! – Everyone drinking, eating, chatting, sometimes there's singing or dancing, and there's always a card game or a story being told, it's wonderful." He smiled broadly.

"And the East Wing holds the guest hall, servant's quarters, kennels, armoury, and leads out into the training yard, and stables. There are also several basements; we haven't explored them much yet though! The Keep is certainly a lot bigger than it looks." He chuckled softly.

"Sounds impressive!" she said sincerely, slightly overwhelmed by his ravings.

"I've seen more elaborate Keeps in Orlais, and it could use some upgrades, or so I'm told, but it should be a good starter keep for you and your Order here in Ferelden," he said merrily, his dark eyes glistening brightly.

"I hope so!"

They walked under the portcullis, and Maxime started waving and grinning at some men and women in the yard. Almost all of them had the iconic griffon armour on, the silver and blue striped plate. She couldn't help but smile at the subtle changes in each person's armour though; Maxime's boots, for example, were lined with fox hair to match his beard, Coline's armour had been lined with indigo thread, and Rafael's cloak had a wolf pelt hood.

Maxime waved two Wardens over, a human female and a male elf. The woman had a short blonde bob framing her square jaw, and her brown eyes sat atop rosy pink cheeks. The man was quite tall for an elf, although he was hunched over a fair bit; he had longish brown hair, clear blue eyes and a prominent chin.

"Olivia, Lenny, this is Neri Surana!" Maxime said gleefully.

Olivia grinned at her. "It's so nice to meet you!" She planted a kiss on each of Neri's cheeks, and Neri blushed.

Lenny's eyes darted up very briefly as he nodded, before returning to the ground.

"Likewise!" Neri said keenly.

"Olivia has been a Warden for twelve years, and Lenny for ten," Maxime explained. "They're some of our more experienced Wardens."

She flinched at his words, and pushed her fear and worries back down, and smiled broadly.

"Ah, this is Esteban!" Maxime cried soulfully. A man with silky black locks and an impressive moustache strode over.

He bowed deeply and grinned. "My lady, it is such a pleasure to meet you." He kissed her hand.

She snorted. "I might have a fancy title, but I am no lady."

He feigned shock. "All women are ladies, my dear!" He grinned, and then glanced at Olivia. "Well, except her - you'll do well to avoid that one when she's hungry!" he laughed and Olivia batted him away with a chuckle.

"Would you like a tour?" Olivia asked with a bright smile, her brown eyes warm and friendly.

"I feel like I already know where everything is," she quipped, shoving Maxime's shoulder playfully, he grinned back at her, and they all laughed. "But I'd love one."

"Okay, Maxi, why don't you let Gable and Varel know Neri is here while Len and I show her around?"

Maxime nodded. "Okay! I'll gather everyone in the main hall for introductions!"

He hugged Neri goodbye, then skipped away.

"I can take your hound, if you like?" Esteban offered, his voice like velvet, his accent rich, she wasn't sure where from though.

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

Esteban pulled a biscuit out of his pocket, and Barkspawn started jumping around. "This way, boy!"

"His name is Barkspawn," she added, and Esteban burst out laughing.

"What an excellent name! Come then, Barkspawn!" They bounded off through the yard together.

"Ready for that tour now?" Olivia smirked.

Neri smiled and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ElyssaCousland! And I hope you all liked my OC Orlesian Wardens. So glad we're finally at the Keep!


	13. More Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and thank you ElyssaCousland, couldn't do this without you.

Olivia slipped her arm through Neri's. "I'll show you the grounds first."

Lenny walked at Olivia's side as they headed across the yard.

"So, how did you both join the Wardens?" Neri asked to fill the silence.

Olivia swallowed thickly. "I ended a criminal's life, a murderer," she said quietly.

Lenny locked his hand with Olivia's and gave it a gentle squeeze, and Neri arched her eyebrows at the intimate gesture.

"Turned out he had murdered and raped a Warden; when the Wardens heard what I had done, they recruited me," Olivia finished, smiling slightly. "And Lenny here grew up in Val Royeaux's alienage, until he left to try to find his own way." She turned to the elf, smiling broadly. "How long did you say you followed Stroud for, love?" she said in an amused tone, which was not lost on the elf.

He blushed. "A- a few hours," he said with a slight stutter.

Neri never would have pegged these two to be a couple, but they were. She was certain Maxime and Rafael had something going on too, and for some reason Maxime was hiding it, or at least trying to.

Olivia chuckled. "It was an entire day, and then Stroud was attacked by some thugs, and Lenny saved his life," she said warmly. "Stroud recruited him out of thanks."

Neri smiled. "What wonderful stories."

"What about you?" Olivia asked a little apprehensively. "There are so many…rumours. I don't know which are true and which are false."

Neri let out a bark of laughter. "Well, I was conscripted into the Wardens after I accidentally helped a blood mage escape the Circle," she admitted sheepishly.

Olivia was clearly relieved, her sigh long and loud. "I'm so glad you didn't summon an army of demons like so many of the rumours said you did!"

Neri snorted derisively. "I wasn't a fan of the Tower, but I would  _never_  do that."

Olivia showed her the East Wing – the armoury, guest hall, kennels and so on – telling her she would be fitted for some new armour soon. Neri had explained how that wasn't necessary, showing them her Archdemon armour, eliciting gasps of awe from both of them.

They bypassed the main hall, wanting to give Maxime time to gather everyone; she was shown her room, and office, the library and the dining hall. Finally, they worked their way back to the main hall, and Neri was greeted by a massive crowd of cheering Wardens; she could feel the taint of each of them, her skin tickling wildly. She had to take a deep calming breath to try to block it all out.

Maxime stood in the centre of the room, grinning wildly. "Okay, Neri, time for introductions! I'll try to make it quick!"

Every single person in the hall groaned.

"We'll be here all sodding day!" a dwarf growled.

"First impressions are important, Durak!" Maxime scolded light-heartedly. Neri moved over to the start of the long line of Wardens, and Maxime took a deep breath. "Okay, here we go! This is Edd and Angus, they're from the Free Marches, and they will drink you under the table. You have been warned!"

"Aye, 'specially a wee thing like you, lass," Edd bellowed; his grip was tight and her whole body shook up and down as he pumped her hand enthusiastically.

"Har! What do you drink then, girl? One shot, and then you're gone?" Angus teased, chuckling throatily.

She grinned wickedly at them both. " _That_  sounds like a challenge."

Edd and Angus clapped her on the back, laughing. "I think we'll get along well, lass!" Edd said with a toothy grin.

Maxime continued to introduce her to the rest of the Wardens, including a prissy Nevarran noblewoman, a couple of grouchy dwarves, two beautiful elves with mischievous glints in their eyes, a young female healer, and a handful of older cynical-looking Wardens from Orlais and Nevarra. Neri greeted them each with a smile and a joke, which seemed to ease the tension with some and irritate others. And at the end of the line she saw the Warden who had taken care of Barkspawn earlier.

She smiled at him, and Esteban kissed both her cheeks.

"I trust my dog is safe?" she said lightly.

He flashed her a brilliant white grin. "Very. He is with the other hounds; I hope that is okay? He was snoring soundly when I left him."

She rubbed her neck. "Yes, that fine, neither of us has slept for a few days, so I'm not surprised he's–"

"Why ever not!?" Esteban asked with a gasp.

She cleared her throat; she could feel the tips of her ears turning pink. "Well, being alone on the road… I guess I couldn't really," she lied, shrugging slightly.

He nodded grimly.

"That concludes the Wardens for the most part, Keenan is around somewhere, probably with the recruits: Rowland, Elis, and Tabs, and as I said, Mhairi is in Denerim. There was a dwarf who said he knew you…" Maxime looked around. "Has anybody seen Oghren?"

Neri gasped, her eyes bulging. " _Oghren_?"

Maxime smirked, his blue eyes shimmering mischievously. "Yes. He wants to join the Wardens; I think he might be using that as a cover to drink all of our ale though."

Neri snorted. "Or more likely, he just couldn't stay away from me," she joked, making Maxime laugh.

"He's probably in the cellar," Maxime said with a sigh. He turned to look at two older men and a woman. "This is Seneschal Varel, Lieutenant Gable and Sergeant Maverlies."

"It's an honour to meet you, Warden," Varel said kindly.

She shook his hand. He had a long face and a prominent chin; his hair and stubble was grey, as were his eyes, but he had a kind face.

"And you, Serah," she said with a wide smile.

Gable smiled a greeting and she shook his hand. He had blonde hair and thick stubble around his mouth, but seemed nice enough. Maverlies gave her a polite nod, as she pushed her brown hair away from her face.

"Time to eat!" Edd roared impatiently.

"Last one at the table has to clean up!" Angus called out as he raced Edd for the doors.

Most of the Wardens groaned, but they all rushed out of the hall anyway.

Neri remained.

"Not joining them?" Varel asked, craning his head slightly.

"I should find Oghren," she explained.

Varel nodded. "The cellar is this way." She followed him. "I trust your travels were safe? There have been a lot of darkspawn as of late."

"I didn't encounter any." She smiled slightly.

He nodded. "That's good. And the Commander, umm, Her Majesty, will be joining us shortly?"

Neri chuckled. "In a few days, I think she said, and just stick with Commander; it'll be easier. While she's at the Keep, she is a Warden first and foremost."

He smiled and nodded his head.

They climbed down some stairs and heard a glass smash. Varel pushed the door open, and sure enough Oghren was rummaging through some crates.

"I do hope you haven't drunk all of the Keep's alcohol, Oghren," Neri scolded, folding her arms.

"NERI!" He grinned, and then let out a massive belch.

She arched an eyebrow. "Charming as ever, I see."

"Heh! Admit it, you missed me." He chuckled gruffly.

"Oh yes, I was  _heartbroken_  when you went back to Felsi instead of staying with me!" she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Knew it," he grunted, looking around the room for something.

"I'll leave you both to catch up." Varel nodded and left.

"So, you want to be a Warden?" she asked, leaning against a pillar.

"Aye! I want to split some heads again!" He grinned toothily as he tossed an empty bottle over his shoulder.

She sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose. "What about Felsi?"

"Eh, oh, I left her," he mumbled, his head far inside a crate.

"Oghren…"

He looked back up and scowled. "Don't Oghren me, woman!" he grumbled. "Make yourself useful and reach that bottle up there." He pointed to the top of a tall shelf.

"I can't reach that."

"Ugh, use your magic," he impatiently barked.

She rolled her eyes, and knocked over the bottle with a blast of magic; Oghren caught it with a grin. He bit into the cork, tugged it off, and took a long swig of the dark liquid. "Ah, that hits the spot!"

She chuckled. "Come on, grubs up, and you better share that," she said, taking it from him and having a long drink herself.

They reached the dining hall, and Maxime called her over, having saved her a seat. She slid in next to him, with the young female healer, Ella, to her left, and Olivia and Lenny opposite. She couldn't help but gawk at the spread in front of her; there were dishes of roasted vegetables glazed in honey, boats of thick gravy, and a massive boar at the end of the table which – now returned from his hunt – Rafael was carving.

Neri hadn't realised how hungry she was until she had cleared three plates, and moved on to her fourth.

"Damn girl, where do you put it all? Maxime joked, looking over her entire body for the 'spot' she put it all.

Neri stuck her tongue out and knocked her shoulder into his.

"You're on!" Oghren yelled eagerly from the end of the table that all of the dwarves, and Marchers were sitting at.

She realised they were discussing a drinking competition and couldn't help but chuckle.  _This_  is what she had been missing; during the Blight things were so… bleak. But this; she could get used to this.

"I think they're going to be fast friends," Neri mused.

Ella smiled and bobbed her head in agreement. "They get so loud when they drink, and Edd has a habit of breaking things," she said quietly.

Neri chuckled. "Clumsy drunks are the worst!"

Ella shook her head, her big brown eyes suddenly sad. "No, abusive ones are."

Neri was about to reply when the prissy Nevarran screamed. "You vile dwarf!"

"Oh come on, don't you ever fantasize about me, baby?" Durak, one of the dwarves replied to her.

She slapped him hard across the face. "I have plenty of fantasies, dwarf, and none of them are about  _you_!" she spat.

Olivia chuckled from across the table, her blonde hair shimmering in the evening sun streaming in through the high windows. "It wouldn't be a Warden dinner without several drunken Wardens and someone storming out."

"Y-you forgot the gossip, complaints about the food, weather or location, and Ma-Maxime s-saying something's  _fabulous_ ," Lenny joked to Olivia.

Neri laughed out loud, and Lenny blushed furiously and recoiled back into himself, returning to stare down at his food. Neri hadn't realised how bad his social anxiety was; he was so very shy, she felt bad for him, but hoped he would soon relax around her.

"If something is fabulous, it needs to be pointed out!" Maxime argued, laughing merrily.

One of the cynical-looking Wardens, Jaque, leant over the table from Lenny's right. "Alright, Neri, can you clear something up? We're all wondering about it," he said.

She quirked and eyebrow and nodded, a half-smile pushing her freckled cheek up.

"Did  **you**  slay the Archdemon? Or was it Riordan, or perhaps Loghain?" he asked seriously, his tone flat.

Both her eyebrows arched and her eyes widened slightly.

The entire table seemed to quieten to listen to her reply, even the drunks were silent.

She swallowed hard. "Riordan jumped onto the Archdemon's back, buried his sword in its neck and crippled its wing–"

"I knew it!" Jaque interrupted.

She lifted her hand to shut him up. "He fell from the dragon and perished."

Jaque narrowed his eyes. "You're saying he  _didn't_  take the final blow?"

"Bit hard to when he was a lovely stain on the cobblestone ground," she replied darkly.

He frowned at her. "What of Loghain then?"

"He was fighting the dragon on the roof of Fort Drakon with me. One minute he was stabbing with his sword, the next he was in the Archdemon's mouth, sharp teeth crushing him, and then he was tossed aside, dead," she gravely recalled.

Jaque was shaking his head, looking extremely confused.

" _I_  took the final blow,  _I_  killed the Archdemon," she said firmly.

Every Warden spoke at once, but the most obvious question was 'how did you survive?'

Arietta and Neri had discussed the answer to this question many times in the past six months; they'd ended up agreeing not to lie, but not to tell the whole truth either.

She stood and glanced at everyone then closed her fingers together for silence. She looked around the table; Coline, Rafael and a few others were all eyeing her suspiciously, the rest just looked curious.

She clenched her jaw and leant her hands on the table. "There are many types of magic in this world, some good," she glanced down at Ella and smiled, "some bad," she looked down at one of the cynical Wardens, evidently a mage-hater, "and some neutral."

She took a deep breath. "I don't know where on the spectrum the magic  _I_  used falls."

The Wardens all started to talk again, and again she silenced them. "It saved my life, and the lives of our king and queen, which is good. But there are consequences too; some I am starting to realise now, and others I'm sure I'll realise much later." She sighed. "There's really nothing more to say on the matter. What's done is done. The Blight is over, and you lazy bastards didn't have to raise a finger to stop it," she said light-heartedly, grinning cheerfully.

She lifted her flagon. "To sacrifice!"

"And the raging headaches we'll have tomorrow!" Angus bellowed.

They all drank.


	14. Loose Tongues And Tight Lips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for betaing this ElyssaCousland, you seriously rock! 
> 
> I now have Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/blog/enchantm3nt92 (where I will post snippets of what I'm working on) and a Deviantart (where my shitty art work can be found) http://enchantm3nt.deviantart.com/
> 
> Thanks for reading!

The wine was beginning to make the room sway a little, and he was feeling very giddy.

"No, no, no, you have to really grab hold, squeeze it tight,  _then_  rub," Neri said, barely stifling a giggle.

Olivia and Ella were watching her with bemused expressions, both of their cheeks rosy from the alcohol; Lenny, despite his usual shyness, was actually smiling, and Maxime couldn't stop the giggle that burst from his lips.

Neri swished her head around to him, her bright brown eyes dancing with mischief. She smiled crookedly at him. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, beardy?" She winked at him.

Maxime could feel his cheeks burning. "Well, I do have quite a lot of experience with  _sanding_  staves."

Neri's eyes darkened dangerously, her crooked smile turning into a predatory grin. "Of course," she leaned in close to him, "I bet yours is  _very_  smooth."

Maxime giggled again, and immediately put his hand to his mouth to try to stop himself.

Neri grinned broadly, her eyes focused on something behind him, and Maxime turned to see Rafael at the end of the table in animated conversation with Varel; Maxime turned back to the smirking elf at his side, but couldn't stop his own smirk forming.

_Oh Maker, Rafael is going to kill me!_

Their relationship had been a difficult one. Every single person Rafael had ever loved had died horribly or betrayed him; it meant he never opened up, never let anybody in. But somehow Maxime had touched the rogue's cold, broken heart, and filled it with warmth once again - despite Rafael's best efforts to fight and deny it. Even so, the rogue never showed public affection, and it often took a lot for him to warm up in the bedroom too; the rogue always struggled to turn off, to relax. But Maxime knew he cared about him, it was there in the slight smiles Rafael afforded him in public, or the way his fingers lingered when passing a plate of food, or how their eyes always seemed to find one another. And in private –

"Do you need some alone time?" Neri asked knowingly, her chuckle a husky rumble in her throat.

Maxime coughed to cover his embarrassment. "Nope, not at all!"

"We're calling it a night," Olivia said, rising to her feet with Lenny.

"I think I will too," Ella said with a yawn. "It was lovely to meet you, Neri." They both hugged.

Most of the table was empty by now, some had left to play Wicked Grace in the guest hall, Most of the others had left to avoid the drinking competition. Rafael was sitting at the head of the table in talks with Esteban, Varel and Gable, which left the dwarves and Marchers at the other end still drinking away and laughing loudly.

"Why do you hide your relationship?" Neri blurted, and none too quietly either.

Maxime glanced at Rafael nervously, but the rogue looked like he hadn't heard a thing; he was deep in thought as Esteban spoke.

"Everyone he ever loved died, or betrayed him. He closed off his heart to protect himself and others. It took him a long time to let me in, and it's hard for him to  _show_  any of it," Maxime gushed sadly.

Neri cupped his face, her almond shaped eyes sad. "But you're so full of emotion! It can't be easy to bottle that all up?"

Maxime's lip curved downwards, and his own eyes filled with tears. "It's not. But if it keeps him happy, I'll gladly do it."

The elf looked down at her lap. "I know what that's like," she mumbled.

"Which part?" he asked gently.

"Both, bottling feelings up, and doing something for someone you love, just to see them happy."

Maxime inclined his head to better see her face, her cheeks were glistening. "Oh Neri, don't cry!" He rubbed her shoulder gently.

She lifted her head with such a sad look on her face. "Have you told him you love him?" she asked in a whisper.

Maxime shook his head slowly. "No," he said softly.

"Tell him, won't you? Don't let the words stick in your throat, it's important," she almost begged, as she squeezed his hands.

He nodded.

"Good," she said, her lips breaking into a weak smile. She wiped her tears and stood. "I'm going to join the drunken fools. Coming?"

He smiled but shook his head. "I think I've had enough tonight. You go ahead though, show them how to really drink," he said with a grin.

She nodded her head. "Alright, good night," she said with a quick glance at Rafael and a wink to Maxime.

He drained the rest of his cup, and stretched back in his chair to glance slyly at Rafael. The rogue seemed to sense his stare, and looked up at him. There was a hint of a smile at his lips, and with that Maxime gave him a curt nod, and rose to his feet.

The castle was quiet as he walked through its dark halls; even the drunken laughter and shouting of the Wardens was soon lost to the thick stone. He climbed the steps to the East Wing, and made his way to his room at the back of the Keep. With a creak the door opened; he left it slightly ajar, stripped out of his robes, and flopped onto the bed. The quilts were cold against his flushed skin, and he nuzzled against them.

He was just starting to drift off when the bed shifted, and Rafael leaned over him, the rogue's breath hot against his neck. He opened his eyes; Rafael was staring at him intensely with his stormy grey eyes, but it was not the kind of intensity Maxime wanted to see, there was no heat or desire behind it.

Maxime sighed. "What are you thinking about?"

Rafael clenched his jaw, and rolled on to his back to stare up at the ceiling. "Neri," he admitted in a huff.

Maxime snorted. "Something I should know about?"

Rafael let out a huff of hair through his nose, and turned to look at him. "What do you think of her?"

Maxime smiled roguishly. "Well, she's certainly pretty. I love her hair, and her eyes are like pools of chocolate…"

"I meant as a person," Rafael growled.

Maxime giggled. "I know," he said breathlessly, running a hand over the rogue's hard chest.

The rogue cocked a dark eyebrow. "How much did you drink tonight?"

"Mmmm, a fair amount," Maxime said as he planted a kiss against the rogue's neck; Rafael tensed but didn't' stop him, so he continued to kiss him lazily.

Rafael looked back up at the ceiling. "We need to find out how Neri survived; the First Warden has asked me to investigate."

That sobered Maxime up very quickly, and he leant on his elbow as he looked down at his lover. "Why does he want to know?"

"He said he needed to know if she's done something that could endanger us all, or if it's something that could save future Warden lives," he said in a formal tone; it was always work, work, and more work with him.

Maxime sighed. "That makes sense, I suppose."

"He said I was to get answers, by any means necessary," Rafael said bitterly, his nose crinkling in disgust.

Maxime frowned. "She's a fellow Warden, our  _sister_. How far are you going to go to get answers?"

"I don't know," he said softly.

"You won't hurt her?"

"Of course not," he dejectedly said, as he rolled out of bed swiftly. "Get some sleep, Max. I'll see you in the morning."

Maxime nearly called out, but his voice died on his lips, and then the rogue was gone and the door was creaking shut. He let out a long sigh and flopped back down onto his pillow. Rafael had a reputation for always getting the job done; it was something Maxime knew he was both proud and ashamed of. He had told Max about some of the things he had done to get by, some of the jobs he had taken to survive.

As a Warden things weren't much different sometimes. They were given orders and they followed them, it was always about the greater good. But it was different when it was your own  _sister_. Maxime should have known Rafael would never hurt Neri; it was only the alcohol loosening his tongue that had made him say such a thing. He would need to apologise to the rogue in the morning. With a groan he rolled onto his belly and hoped sleep would take him quickly. He knew it wouldn't though; he always slept poorly without the rogue at his side.


	15. Rough Night, Rough Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much ElyssaCousland!

It was strange; he could sleep on wood or stone floors, or in cots with scratchy blankets, but as long as he had Max at his side, he would sleep soundly. Without the mage, his night's sleep had been fitful at best. He found the bed harder and colder without him, and his dreams were haunted by the ghosts of his past.

The gentle melody of the birds outside his window told him it was closer to morning than night. Rafael sat up slowly, rubbing his face, and then rolled out of bed. He splashed water on his face and mixed his cream into a thick lather across his jaw and chin, before dragging the blade across his skin, shaving much of his stubble. Then, he dressed, put his dagger on his belt, headed out of his room, and down the corridor. He was tempted to pay Max a visit, but the mage would probably be sound asleep.

He wasn't an idiot; he knew most of his fellow Wardens probably knew they were in a relationship by now, and even Neri seemed to have picked up on it, if the conversation he had overheard from the previous night was anything to go by. But he still couldn't bring himself to show or admit it to anybody. He wasn't  _good_ at showing affection; that part of him had been sealed off for so long now. It had to be; he was often in charge, often called upon to make the hard calls, it was what he was best at. He was ruthless and determined, which was how he had survived all of those years alone as an orphan in Val Royeaux.

It had started as innocent stealing at first – just food, to get by each day – then pickpocketing, stealing coin so he could buy new clothes, or a blanket. Later, he had started to break into houses or chests. Much later, when he was stronger, he would mug people, and when he grew smarter he conned them. He'd even killed to survive. It was his skill that got him hired by a mercenary group, the Rouge Marteau's. And that was also where he had met Layla…

He rubbed his face at the memory of her, his nightmares still fresh in his mind. Layla had been the first woman he ever had loved; a tall girl, lithe and deadly with her daggers. She had silver hair like the moon, and bright olive coloured eyes. She had died because of Rafael. He could still see her face when he closed his eyes, still see her crying as the man pulled on her hair and dragged the knife across her throat.

Later, there had been Alonso. His death left a bitter taste in Rafael's mouth also; the warrior had been poisoned, eating food meant for Rafael. He could still see the sickly plum purple the man had turned as he clawed at his neck.

There were others, all dead as well. And the one still alive, the one that had betrayed him, still eluded him to this day. He had been ready to give up on life after that, sitting in the gallows with a noose all but around his neck, but the Wardens had saved him. With them, he found a new family, a new purpose, and, reluctantly, a new relationship.

It had taken two years for Maxime to wriggle his way under Rafael's defences – or perhaps he had talked his way in? He could scarcely believe it had happened at all, after everything, and yet, here he was. If someone had told him three years ago he would lo –  _care_  for someone again, he would have shipped that person off to the Chantry to be cleansed of whatever ailed them.

The thought of Max getting hurt, or worse, of Rafael hurting  _him,_  was too much to bear sometimes. He hoped Neri would be cooperative, and give him the answers he sought; he did not relish the thought of having to force answers out of the elf. It was as Maxime had said: she was their sister, and she was family. He couldn't blame Max for thinking he would hurt her; the thought  _had_  crossed his mind, and he had thought about it most of the night: how far would he go?

He pushed open the doors to the guest hall to inspect the damage done by last night's activities. He groaned. The hall was a mess: cards were strewn across the table, glasses and flagons were scattered across the floor, and there were knives and darts buried in various pieces of furniture throughout the room. The older Wardens were forever arguing over who the best shot was. Rafael noticed a line drawn on the ground, and a bull's eye on the wall; in their drunken stupor they seemed to have landed more knives in the wall than anywhere else.

He sighed.

A mess like this when they were expecting the  _Queen_  of Ferelden any day was unacceptable. He stormed out of the room and back up the stairs. He kicked open Jaque's door, and yanked the covers off the Nevarran.

"Guest hall, now!" he growled.

He repeated the same thing with the other older Wardens, before stalking back down the stairs to wait for them. They all staggered in through the doors in various stages of undress, and looked around the room in amusement.

"Ha, good night," Jaque mused as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Play hard, work hard," Rafael said, folding his arms across his chest. They all grinned and nodded, and only then realised what he actually meant by that. "You will make this room  _spotless_ , am I clear?" Rafael ordered, his voice level and controlled.

They all nodded their heads feebly.

He walked toward the door, but couldn't resist the added flourish; he picked up a knife, and tossed it over their heads to land perfectly on the bull's eye. They gawked at him as he shouldered past them and out of the door. Only once he was away from them did he allow himself a smug smile.

He passed the central staircase, and a flash of blonde drew his attention to the steps. Neri was slumped against the stairs, snoring loudly. The elf's face was planted firmly on the stone, her ass in the air; it looked like she had stumbled upon the first step, and fallen asleep exactly where she had landed.

He sighed, and gave her boot a kick.

She didn't stir.

_Maker, how much did she drink last night?_

"Elf." He kicked her harder.

She started to stir, her tongue darting out to lick her cracked lips, only to get a mouthful of stone; she bolted upright, and slammed her head into the wall behind her. She groaned in pain, clutching her head with a hand. Then she stretched her legs out, only to cry out as pins and needles struck her.

Rafael couldn't stop the smile curving at the corners of his lips.

She glared at him. "Well, I'm glad you find this  _so_  amusing!"

He straightened, and offered her a hand up. She accepted and he pulled her to her feet, steadying her.

"Are you still drunk?" he asked, eyeing her curiously.

She wobbled and grabbed his arm for balance. "A little, maybe," she admitted sheepishly.

"Can you find your room okay?"

She waved him off as she staggered up the stairs. "Of course!" she bragged. "Wait, which one was mine again?" She tripped up the stairs, smacking her head on the stone again.

Rafael squeezed the bridge of his nose _,_ and took the steps two at a time to grab her before she fell once more. Shaking his head, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her the rest of the way.

"Mmmm," she sighed against him. "You are very nice." She rubbed his chest, and he blushed.

He kicked open her door, strolled in, and placed her down on the bed. "Try not to hit your head anymore," he gruffly said, as he tucked her in, avoiding eye contact.

She sighed contentedly as her eyes closed. "I can see why Maxime loves you," she whispered, her eyes closing slowly.

His breath hitched, and he stared at her blankly until her breathing steadied as sleep took her. He didn't know what to do with himself. He knew Maxime cared… that was plain to see; the mage was very open about his emotions. But he had never said that  _word_  before. He shook his head, banishing such thoughts. She was drunk, and she'd only known them a day; she didn't know what she was saying. He left her room, closing the door gently behind him.

He headed down to the dining hall to check the damages there. He shook his head in disgust as he walked through the doors. The female dwarven Warden, Urin, was lying on top of the table in just her smalls – not something Rafael needed to see this early in the day – and the other dwarf, Durak, was lying on top of her, with his head buried in her tits, and a flagon of drink still in his hand. Angus was slumped against the far wall; Edd was face down on the stone, and that other dwarf, the recruit –  _what was his name…_   _Oren? Georen?_   _Oghren!_ – was under the table snoring loudly.

There were empty bottles, glasses and plates of food everywhere, and the air was ripe with the stench of vomit and sweat. Rafael walked silently into the kitchen on the other side of the hall, grabbed a large cast iron pot, and spoon, and walked back out into the hall.

He banged the spoon into the pot, and all the Wardens woke with a start; Oghren sat up so quickly he smashed his head on the table above him. The others groaned, and told Rafael to quit making so much noise.

"You have an hour to clean this place up," he barked.

They all groaned.

He threw the pot and spoon on the hard stone, making them all flinch and cry out.

"Get it done!" he demanded, storming out of the room.

He ventured outside next, taking in the dewy morning air; it must have rained in the night because the ground was back to being a muddy mess. He had spoken at great length with the stone worker, a dwarf by the name of Voldrik, about putting down some cobblestone to make the ground less treacherous. Ferelden had an odd climate: it always rained, and despite it currently being summer, most warm days were muggy and overcast – the kind of weather that left you sticky and uncomfortable.

He could hear the clash of metal ringing out from the practice yard, and knew it would be Lenny and Olivia sparring. They were an odd pair to be sure. Rafael had been concerned when they first entered into a relationship, thinking it would distract them from their duties, but it had the opposite effect with them. Lenny came out of his shell, breaking through his crippling shyness more often, and Olivia worked harder than ever with him at her side - a bit of friendly competition between them. And once Rafael started to see Max… well, he certainly couldn't scold others for such things.

Rafael watched as Olivia's shield slammed into Lenny's side, but the elf spun around quickly to swipe at her. Rafael loved watching them fight. They both knew the other so well, and were able to anticipate each other's next move; it meant they were both thinking five or six steps ahead at any one time. Because of this they still used blunt swords and Olivia only had a small wooden shield strapped to her arm.

Suddenly, a woman shrieked from inside the East Wing. "Thief!" she cried.

All of their eyes darted to the garden gate as a man with black hair sprinted through it, and toward them.

Olivia charged him, and Lenny flanked.

The thief pulled a bow on them, unleashing arrow after arrow into Olivia's little shield. She got in close and tried to hit him with it, but the archer moved gracefully to the side, smacking his bow into Olivia's head, dropping her to the ground with a cry. Lenny screamed and charged, his long swords swinging wildly; the archer loosed an arrow into Lenny's calf and the elf slammed into the mud with an anguished groan.

Rafael growled and drew his dagger, squaring off against the archer. The stranger narrowed his eyes, and drew back on his bow string. Rafael charged, dodging the first arrow, swiping at the next before he skidded under the last – coming to a stop just under the archer – and punched the stranger in the gut with his off-hand. The archer staggered back, and Rafael leapt back to his feet. The archer swung his bow in a wide arc, but Rafael ducked under it effortlessly, and then used a high kick, his boot slamming into the archer's side. The archer loosed another arrow and Rafael rolled into the mud, avoiding it.

Olivia was up again, pressing the rogue against the wall, but once more the archer moved artfully fast, kicking her in the knee, making her cry out. Lenny rose angrily, but the archer kicked him down again.

Rafael ducked under the archer's bow once more, and then tackled him into the mud; he brought his fists down on the archer's face over and over. The stranger was strong; his knees slamming into Rafael's ribs, his hands clawing at his face, but Rafeal continued to hit him.

Lenny suddenly screamed, and then there was a sharp pain in Rafael's side. He looked down to see an arrow sticking out of his skin. The archer kicked Rafael into the mud, and Rafael clutched his side, grimacing in pain. There was a loud war cry, a groan of pain, and then the sound of a body thudding to the floor. Rafael looked up to see Olivia gasping for breath, bleeding from her head, favouring her right leg, and standing over an unconscious archer.

She rushed to Lenny's side, where the elf was clutching his gushing leg, a hole where the arrow had been moments before. "Maker, Len. Are you okay, love?" she asked worriedly, fussing over him. He cupped her face and nodded as he gritted his teeth.

"Rafael!" Maxime screeched, rushing forward and skidding to the ground in front of him.

"I'm fine," Rafael insisted. "It's just a scratch." He sat back up with a groan, staring down at the arrow between his ribs.

"You have an arrow in your side! How did this happen? Who is that?" Max asked in a rush. His hands started to glow around the arrow. "Hold still while I pull this out," he said as his voice broke. He yanked the arrow out and Rafael stifled a scream in his elbow.

Varel and Gable raced into the yard looking very confused and concerned.

Before they opened their mouths, Rafael spoke. "Lock up the archer. I have questions for him," he said firmly through clenched teeth as Max healed his sore side.


	16. Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ElyssaCousland for a wonderful and snappy beta as always.

"My name is Nathaniel Howe; this is my home," the thief said, stepping forward into the only patch of light in his dreary cell.

Rafael snorted derisively. "Was. It  _was_  your home."

The archer glared at Rafael with steely, unforgiving eyes. "Until you Wardens took it."

"We were given it by the King and Queen," Olivia stepped in, speaking firmly.

If the rumours were true, the previous owner, Arl Rendon Howe – father of the man standing in front of them now – once owned this Keep, before he betrayed the Couslands. Howe took the Queen's castle, and now she ruled over his.  _Poetic, really_ , Olivia thought ruefully; she would never understand such betrayals, why they occurred or how people could do such a thing in the first place.

"More Wardens," Nathaniel scoffed in disgust.

Olivia supposed it wasn't shocking just how angry he was; they  _were_  in his old home, after all, sleeping in his bed, using his belongings. She would probably have a similar reaction.

"Well, get used to the cell, mate. I think I'll leave you to wallow in your hatred until the Commander of the Grey arrives. I'm sure you'll both have a lot to talk about." Rafael's lips curved into a smile as he walked away.

Olivia followed him back up the steps, albeit with a slight limp; her knee was still sore from the morning's fight.

"So, we just wait, then what?" she asked Rafaey.

He glanced down at her, his grey eyes dark and unsympathetic. "We shall see what the Commander wants to do with him." He looked forward again. "If he was anyone but a Howe, I would have cut off a hand, but this was his home, and I'm curious to see how the Commander handles such a situation."

Olivia smirked. "She's not even here yet and you're already laying out a series of tests for the poor woman."

"She's anything but poor, Olivia," he teased, a very faint smile on his lips.

"Well, I'm sure she won't disappoint you; she did stop the Blight, after all."

"You're right; it's Neri I am more curious about." He looked at her again, his stony eyes boring into her. "Tell me, what do you think of the elf?"

"Well, she seemed nice; chatty little thing. I can see her and Maxime becoming fast friends. But there's definitely more to her than meets the eye."

"Indeed; her survival is a mystery," he hummed pensively.

"You want to know exactly what she did to survive," Olivia stated rather than questioned; Rafael was deep in thought, clearly troubled by the whole thing.

"Of course I do. If she did something awful, we need to know about it to reverse whatever she's done, and if it's a new loop-hole then we need to know about it to save future Wardens."

"Well, I'm sure if we ask her for more details, she'll give them," she hopefully stated.

"That remains to be seen," he said flatly. He rested a hand on her shoulder. "Go, eat, rest, you look exhausted."

She nodded with a weak smile. "You should too," she said as a yawn took her, her hand rising to cover her mouth.

"I will," he said, as he sulked off across the yard, past the shop of Herren and Wade, and back through to the training yard.

Once he was out of sight, she sighed, put her hood up, and crossed the slippery mud, climbed the steps and walked in through the Keep's main doors. Inside, the halls were bustling with life, as she headed toward the dining hall. Each step, each  _limp,_  reminded her of her failure that morning. She had grossly misjudged the archer's skill; usually enemies such as those were dead at her feet once she got in close, but not he. Nathaniel Howe had been trained to fight many opponents with grace and skill, it seemed. And she had tried to fight him with a blunt sword and tiny wooden shield; a foolish move. She should have known better than to underestimate anyone… She shook her head, not wanting to think about her past failures.

She pushed open the doors to the dining hall and walked in, her eyes immediately finding Lenny's. Her husband smiled warmly at her, his blue eyes shimmering brightly. She smiled in return and slid in next to him. There were not many at the table; most were at the far end playing a card game.

Lenny squeezed her hand. "H-how are you feeling?"

She sighed. "A bit sore. What about you, mon amour?"

He stared down at his food sullenly. "Same."

She ran her hand across his neck, stroking his hairline softly. "It's not your fault, Len. We all underestimated him, but we're all okay."

He looked back up at her, his eyes glistening tearfully; she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

"H-how is R-Rafael? I feel terrible. If I hadn't been shot, h-he–"

"Love," she said as she cupped his cheek. "He's fine, don't worry about him."

His stutter always got worse when he was nervous, but even so he was much better now than he had been when she first met him; he could barely look at anybody, let alone talk to them. Olivia had made an effort to speak with him every day. Sometimes she simply read aloud to him; eventually it had paid off with a glance or a smile, and later entire sentences and conversations. He had been horribly bullied in the alienage by other elves because of his slight stutter; the bullying had, of course, made it worse, until he barely spoke at all. Then they bullied him for never talking. Slowly but surely he had receded deeper and deeper into himself. But gradually, she had peeled back his shy exterior and found the beautiful man beneath: the determined, hardworking, caring man she had fallen in love with. It had been a long and slow road for both of them. Lenny had no idea how to admit his feelings for her; it had taken  _six years_ , and Olivia didn't think she would ever love again, not after… she squeezed her eyes shut; banishing  _him_  from her mind.  _Monster_.

She shovelled food into her mouth.

"Who was thi-this prisoner then?"

"A noble, or he was, I suppose; this was his home."

Lenny's ears flicked back in surprise. "He's a Howe?"

She smiled sadly. "Yes."

His brow furrowed. "Why is h-he back here?"

"That is surely a question for the Why's, not the Howe's, dear." She giggled at her terrible joke, and Lenny groaned, but there was a small smile playing about his lips. "Rafael is going to let the Commander deal with him, when she gets here."

Lenny nodded and took a sip of his tea.

Neri walked in through the doors then, dragging her feet across the ground. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she had a big swollen lump on her forehead and bruising on her jaw. She dropped into the seat in front of them and wiped the dribble from her lip.

Olivia stared at her slightly wide-eyed for a moment, before she smiled. "I dare say you look worse than us, and we were in a fight this morning."

Neri poured some tea, and seemed to take a few minutes to realise what Olivia had just said. She looked up and frowned. "Fight?" she croaked, licking her cracked, broken lip.

"Yes, we had an intruder at the Keep: one Nathaniel  _Howe_ ," Olivia explained, as she poured herself some orange juice.

Neri's eyebrows arched. "Where is he now?"

"In the dungeon. Rafael is keeping him prisoner until the Commander arrives; he figured she'd want to speak to him."

"Arietta killed his brother and father, I'm sure they have a lot to talk about," Neri mused.

That was new information to her. "Brother? I had heard she killed Rendon Howe but not a son."

"Fergus Cousland, Arietta's brother, turned up at Redcliffe in the middle of the Blight. He'd survived Ostagar and recovered quickly thanks to my barrier stopping the darkspawn from pursuing the fleeing army. Together, we all took back Highever before the Landsmeet. Thomas was there; he was…not right in the head. He had been torturing some of Highever's staff and guests. It was not pleasant. So we killed him." The elf shrugged as she downed her tea before tucking into her toast.

Olivia let the elf recuperate a little before speaking again, the poor thing looked terribly hungover. "So, how much did you end up drinking last night, and what happened to your face?" she asked, craning her head to the side in amusement.

Neri groaned. "I don't remember a thing. Maxime said that Rafael found me on the stairs, so he took me to bed – which is really embarrassing – so I'm just going to avoid him for a few days," she said as her cheeks flushed.

Olivia chuckled. "I'm surprised he didn't leave you on the steps!"

The new recruit, Oghren walked in through the doors, and headed toward them.

"Me too; I wish he would have," Neri grumbled.

Olivia smiled brightly. "I'm sure Ella can cure your hangover, and heal the bruises. But maybe in future don't compete against Marchers and dwarves?" she chastised lightly.

"Eh? She didn't!" Oghren said gruffly.

Neri frowned at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You were well ahead of the rest of us, we tried keeping up with you, but you were tossing them back faster than anyone. Something really lit a fire under your ass, eh, Warden?"

Neri scrunched up her face and looked down at her hands.

Olivia furrowed her own brow and reached her hand across the table. "Hey, are you okay?"

Neri nodded her head feebly. "Yeah, fine," she rasped, as a frown marred her light brows.

"If you need to talk, I'm here," Olivia said earnestly.

Neri looked up and gave her a thin smile.

Ella skipped in through the door, making a beeline for Neri. "Neri, Maxi said you needed healing, are you feeling okay?" the healer asked.

Neri snorted. "I fell asleep on the stairs or, more likely, tripped on them and passed out."

"Oh no! Let me take a look." Ella sat down and tilted Neri's head, then hissed, "Ouch!" Her hands started to glow. "Can you not heal?" she asked curiously.

Neri shook her head slightly. "No, my talents lie elsewhere."

Ella frowned, and so did Olivia. Please, please, don't be a blood mage, she thought as she watched Neri carefully.

"What sort of magic?" Ella asked quietly, almost fearful to hear the answer.

"I'm sure you'll get to see me in action soon enough," Neri sombrely said, looking down at her lap.

"Are you a  _fucking_  blood mage?" Joshua spat, standing from the table angrily.

Olivia looked around; everybody was listening in, all with grave expressions on their faces. This would not end well if she was.

Neri seemed to realise this and shifted in her seat as she looked up at him. "No. I detest blood magic," she carefully stated.

Olivia wasn't sure she believed her; there was definitely more to it than that. Joshua looked ready to burn her at the stake, but then one of the maids burst in through the doors.

"There are Templars in the yard!" she squealed.

They all rose to their feet, and headed straight for the door.


	17. From the Frying Pan And Into The Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Neri finally reunite - joint chapter as a prezzie to everyone reading this!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ElyssaCousland for betaing all of this!

_Andraste's flaming knickers, did they_ have _to have horses!?_

"Come on, girl," he encouraged his horse, Elia.

Her hooves beat against the cobbled road, her black mane billowing in the wind, her grey coat matching the equally grey sky that spat rain down upon them. His face was drenched, a mix of rain and sweat as thunder roared behind him: the beating sound of two Templars on horseback at his heels.

It was Elia's nicker that had awoken him just before the two Templars grabbed him; he had awoken with a start, dodged the first Templar, and leapt onto Elia's back before the other could get him. They had raced out of the trees and onto the road, Anders grinning madly at his close escape, and then the Templars had charged out of the trees behind him on their own horses. He didn't know how they had their own mounts, but he did know they seemed to be dead set on bringing him in, dead or alive.

He nearly missed the turning as the rain splattered harshly into his eyes; he pulled on the reigns, and Elia veered sharply up the hill. The Keep loomed above them, and a grin spread across his face. Elia sprinted past several servants and soldiers and into the inner yard. He slowed her to a stop and looked around desperately; he needed to find Neri…

The Templars tore into the yard and Elia startled, and reared, sending him tumbling into the mud. He rolled over, groaning in pain, and then a smite washed over him. He gagged and choked as the nausea rolled through him.

"Fucking mage," a deep voiced Templar said, kicking him hard in the ribs.

Anders cried out, his hands instinctively protecting his head.

The second Templar joined in, kicking him in the gut. Anders curled into a protective ball, but the deep voiced Templar picked him up by his hair, making Anders scream, before hitting him in the jaw with a gauntleted fist. Anders fell back into the mud, and they started beating him again.

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF HIM!" a woman screeched in righteous fury.

Anders felt the blast of magic wash over him; moments later there was a loud crash of metal thudding into the ground some distance away. Footsteps squelched toward him, and he tentatively opened his eyes and peeked up at the woman standing over him.

He gave her a slow lopsided smile. "Surprise?"

The corners of her mouth twitched.

Her hair was a tangled mess of short blonde curls and flicks, and she was only wearing a loose linen shirt, leather leggings and brown knee-high boots.

Her smile disappeared as she straightened, a glare replacing it. "What are you doing here?" she asked icily.

"I came to see you, obviously." He smiled innocently.

Some of her coldness seemed to thaw. "And you brought friends; how thoughtful," she said sarcastically, her gaze drawn to the rising Templars behind him. He glanced over at them as they staggered forward angrily.

"This man is an apostate; he has escaped six –"

"Seven!" Anders corrected with a smirk.

The Templar bristled. "Seven times, and is a danger to all."

The deep voiced Templar stepped forward. "He burnt down a house, and stole that horse; he is to be brought back to the Circle immediately."

"They let me borrow that horse!" Anders cried, his lips curling in disgust at their lies.

"Lying apostate! You nearly murdered that entire family," the second Templar roared.

"What do you plan to do with him at the Circle?" Neri asked, her voice steely, as she folded her arms.

Anders struggled to his feet, his body aching painfully. "You're not actually considering sending me back with them!?" he wailed at Neri.

Neri eyed him coolly, and then looked back at the Templars.

"He will undergo the Rite for his crimes," the deep voiced Templar glowered. "It is nothing less than he deserves," he added spitefully.

Neri clenched her jaw, and Anders looked around desperately at the other people also gathered in the yard, all watching silently.

"That won't be possible," Neri said rigidly, unmoving from her stance next to him.

"You don't get to decide that; you Wardens have interfered enough with Tower business already!" the second Templar growled.

"Well, I am, and I am asking you to leave,  _now_ ," she said murderously, through her teeth, barely containing her outrage.

"We're not going anywhere without that apostate," the second Templar swore, the muddy metal of his plate rattling as he took a firm step forward.

Neri sighed; she looked at Anders grievously, her ochre eyes weak and watery, and then turned back to the Templars, lifting her chin resolutely. "I am conscripting him into the Grey Wardens."

Anders stared at her with his mouth open.  _She… what?_

"You can't do that! He has to be punished!" the deep voiced Templar boomed.

"She absolutely can; Grey Wardens still hold that right," a man with curly black hair said as he stepped forward with a hand on his dagger.

"You Wardens go too far! The apostate is coming with us and that's final!"

Both Templars drew their swords.

"Have it your way," Neri said calmly, her eyes completely uncaring, her expression blank.

She clenched her hands, and the Templars began to shake and scream. Their faces turned red, then purple; the veins in their necks swelled as the glow of Neri's magic squeezed them. She was using a powerful crushing prison spell, which she ended just as quickly as she had cast it, by throwing her arms apart, ripping the Templars in half in a fountain of blood.

Anders turned to grin at Neri, but she was already storming away.

"I'm a  _force_  mage," she growled at a man with a blond goatee. "Have him cleaned up, then brought to me," she said to nobody in particular before storming through the doors.

_So much for sweeping her off her feet with a passionate kiss…_

Every single person in the yard was staring at him, some with suspicion, but most with pity.

He gulped.

A petite woman with brown hair waked forward. "I'm Ella," she said sweetly.

"Anders," he croaked.

She smiled. "Let's get you cleaned up, Anders."

He hobbled into the Keep with her, and she led him into a spacious office, where he sat down in a chair. She chewed on her little pink lips as her hands began to glow, and her magic flowed over him; he let out a sigh of relief and she started to giggle.

A man with bright orange hair walked in, and gave Anders a lopsided smile. "So, that was  _quite_  the show."

Anders snorted, shaking his head. "You could say that."

"I'm Maxime." The man grinned brightly running his eyes up Anders.

Anders arched an eyebrow and smiled.

"So, how do you know Neri?" Maxime asked as he settled into a nearby chair, his long legs stretching out in front of him, one leg crossed over the ankle of the other.

Anders shrugged a shoulder. "We grew up in the Circle together," he mumbled past his swollen lip.

"You're  _friends_  then?" A slight smirk played at Maxime's lips as his deep blue eyes shone mischievously.

Anders sighed.

"Stop moving so much, I have to heal your face!" Ella scolded in a soft but squeaky voice.

"Sorry," Anders muttered, he looked back at Maxime. "We are, or were, I don't know. It's complicated," he admitted in defeat with a long drawn out sigh.

Maxime looked at the ground, and exhaled, his shoulders sagging a little. "Isn't it always?" He looked back up and smiled sadly. "So, what did you do to piss her off so much?"

Anders snorted and shook his head. "I thought she'd be happy to see me; it's been a year. I may have misjudged the situation though," he chuckled ruefully, feeling better as Ella finished up her healing.

"Wash yourself off in this basin, your hair is very muddy, but you're all healed." Ella smiled, and walked out of the room.

Anders started to soak his hair, running the cool water through the snarls, turning the water dark with blood and mud.

"Did you really burn a house down?" Maxime asked curiously, an eyebrow arched quizzically.

Anders smirked, as he splashed more water onto the top of his head. "It was an accident. I saved the people inside, and they let me borrow their horse."

Maxime smiled in disbelief, shaking his head so his shaggy hair shifted slightly. "And the seven escape attempts part?" he asked beguiled.

Anders shrugged, giving the other man a mischievous grin. "I'm very good at escaping, not so great at  _staying_  escaped though," he resentfully explained.

"I grew up in the White Spire; escape attempts were rare, and most were stopped mid escape," Maxime explained. "This one mage I knew, her name was Toria, she tried to dress up in Templar plate, and walk out the front door! But she said 'thank you' to a passing Templar as he held the door open for her, and he immediately knew she wasn't one of them. Poor girl was on cleaning duty for a month. To escape successfully seven times…the Ferelden Circle must be very lax?"

"I usually watched the Templars for weeks, learning their patrols. I learnt about each of their habits too, eventually I'd figure something out." Anders sighed. "I suppose I have to go talk to Neri now?"

"Yeah, there's no  _escaping_  that, I'm afraid," Maxime joked, albeit sympathetically.

Anders ran a towel over his hair. "I've never seen her that angry or… cold."

"We haven't known her long, she only arrived yesterday, but she seemed a fairly cheery sort. I never thought someone so tiny could be so terrifying." He let out a bark of laughter.

"You and me both," Anders said, standing back up. "Let's get this over with then."

Maxime walked him to Neri's office.

"You might want to have Ella on standby – I have a feeling I'm going to need healing again," he whispered to Maxime.

Maxime clapped him on the shoulder, "Good luck, mate." And then he walked away.

Anders stared at the door for a moment, and then gave it a gentle knock.

"Enter," Neri said.

He opened the door and stepped in.

* * *

One look, that's all it took. That slow, lopsided smile which spread across his lips – despite them being broken and bloodied, and his face being covered in mud – and all the feelings she had bottled away came rushing back to her. Like a flood, it washed over her, making her feel giddy. She could still feel the ripples of it now, in the thudding of her heart, and the way her stomach fluttered around like a caged butterfly. She'd even cracked a smile at him, before remembering the seriousness of the situation.

_Damn him._

She pulled out a parchment, trying to think of anything but the gorgeous mage in the other room. She started to write.

… _I understand this situation is difficult, with this being his seventh escape attempt. I have conscripted him into the Grey Wardens, so you no longer need to deal with him. I regret to inform you that the two Templars sent to pursue Anders have been killed; they would not leave, even after I invoked the Right of Conscription, and they chose to draw their swords –_

There was a gentle knock at the door.

Neri took a deep breath. "Enter."

Anders walked in, his shoulders sagging, and he turned and closed the door, then stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. She pointed to the chair in front of her desk with her quill, and then went back to writing.

… _I hope we can get past this incident; the last thing I wanted was for the Wardens to interfere further with Tower business –_

Anders cleared his throat.

Neri glanced up at him, and placed her quill in the ink pot. "Ella healed you?"

Anders nodded.

She craned her head to the side, and looked at him properly. His golden-red hair was slightly longer than she remembered; even wet from a wash, the edges at his face curled in slightly, as did the strands sitting atop his narrow shoulders. His straw coloured stubble was thick and messy across his long jawline. His usually bright amber eyes were sunken and sad against the black bags beneath them. He was perhaps a little gaunter than she recalled, his robes hanging from his slim frame, particularly across the chest and arms. Apart from that though, this was  _her_  Anders, the one she grew up with, her best friend and her old lover, with his amber eyes, long, slightly crooked nose, and kissable lips…

_Stop! Focus._

She straightened. "How did you escape this time?"

He leaned back in his chair and inhaled. "They released me from solitary a few days ago. I spoke with Sol; she said you ended the Blight, and were heading for Amaranthine. I couldn't stay in that tower a second longer. I had to see you, so I left."

Her brow furrowed. "You usually spend weeks planning." She groaned, suddenly realising what he must have done. "You climbed out of the bloody window, didn't you?"

A grin spread across his lips; the smile she loved so much.

She squeezed the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes in disbelief. "Anders, you could have died."

"But I didn't," he stated smugly.

She rose from her seat and paced the room.  _Foolish mage!_  "That is not the point, and you know it," she growled.

He stood from his chair and grabbed her arms. "I was locked up for a year, Neri! I meant what I said. I wanted to see you," he exclaimed earnestly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Being locked up for a year was your own stupid fault," she said bitterly, pulling away from his smouldering touch. She sighed. "You shouldn't have spent so long at the Pearl in Denerim," she said more lightly.

He frowned at her. "How did you know that's where I was?"

"I met a lovely pirate by the name of Isabela," she purred. "She liked my magical talents better than your electricity thing…" she said huskily, and Anders gasped.

He was wide-eyed. "You didn't?"

She couldn't stop the smirk that crept up her face. "I did, a threesome, actually."

Ander's mouth fell open, and she wanted to kiss him hard on those succulent lips of his.

She giggled, and then shook her head.  _Focus! You're supposed to be mad at him!_

"Those Templars could have killed you." She started to pace again. "Relationships with the Circle are already tense; what you just did, and the deaths of those Templars…" She shook her head in frustration, running a hand through her still-tangled, hair. "Anders, this is very bad," she said seriously.

He sighed. "I thought… I thought once I had the horse that I'd reach you without any trouble, but they somehow got horses as well." He frowned. "I am sorry about that, and I'm thankful for what you did, Neri." He started to smirk again. "I had imagined my entrance to be much more  _romantic_ ," he hummed.

She swallowed hard. "Oh?" she squeaked.

He gave her a slow grin, his amber eyes shining brightly. "Mmm, I would have ridden in on Elia with my hair majestically blowing in the wind. I'd have slipped off of my horse and sauntered up to you with my spicy shimmy, and then I would have cupped your face with both my hands, stared down at your gorgeous brown eyes, and kissed you deeply," he said in a low rumble, his eyes darkening with desire.

Neri let out a soft moan.  _Oh Maker._

Anders always had this effect on her, unravelling and arousing her with his words, a smile, a touch…

"My tongue would dart into your mouth," he continued huskily. "I'd run my hands through your hair, like this." His hand reached out and slid through her curls. She melted into his touch, her eyes closing as he kneaded her scalp expertly.

" _Anders…_ "

She felt him move closer to her, and her tongue licked her lips instinctively. His other hand cupped her face, and she opened her eyes to look up at him; his amber eyes were as dark as chocolate.

_No. I will not let him seduce me!_

She swallowed thickly, and forced the words out of her mouth. "I have two dead Templars, and I had no choice but to conscript you into the Grey Wardens," she said coolly, pushing past him.

He looked at her like she'd just slapped him.

"You could  _die_ , Anders," she went on to explain. "The ritual to become a Warden is not pleasant. I didn't want to make you one, but you've forced my hand." She rubbed at her temples; her hangover had returned in full swing. She shot him a glare. "And did you really think you could just saunter in here, and sweep me off my feet?" she added bitterly, the words like bile in her throat.  _So much has changed, love._

"Well, it seemed to be working…" he said, trying for humour.

She frowned at him. "Open your eyes Anders! We're mages; we can never grow old together."  _I can never grow old._  "We can never have children."  _I can't have children._  "There is no happily ever after for us!" _For me, and I can't let you in because of it._

She took a shaky breath. "Why didn't you stay in the Tower? After everything that happened… you were safe there, Anders."

He glared at her as he took a step toward her. "But I wasn't free, and I didn't have you." He tentatively reached out to touch her arm.

_Selfish, selfish, foolish man._

She flinched away from him. "Well, here I am!" she shouted at him angrily.

Anders took a step back, clearly shocked at the venom in her words.

She had always loved him, always protected him, but she couldn't protect him from himself. This was his stupid fault.  _Why did he have to come back into my life? I was happy with Zev…_

"Do you like what you see?" She motioned to all of her body. "Do you still want to kiss me passionately? Want to undress me?" She started to unbutton her shirt. "This is what you want right, to fuck me? After all, it's been  _so_  long," she mocked, pulling her shirt off roughly.

"Neri…" Anders said, slack-jawed.

She grabbed at her breasts roughly. "Go ahead, I'm all yours," she spat. "Better make the most of it before it's too late," she said bitterly.

His hands touched her arms to still her. "What is this really about?" he asked, his voice soft with concern - his healers voice - as he looked at her with tearful eyes.

His touch was so warm, so gentle and sweet. Tears flooded her eyes and she laughed bitterly. "It was supposed to be different; it was supposed to be a way out, for all of us. But there's always a catch, isn't there?" She looked up at him, and all she wanted was to feel his arms around her.

Anders' brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter." She rubbed the tears away. "I'll have one of the Wardens show you around."

_I need to get away._

She pushed past him, and he grabbed her arm. "Neri, wait!" He pulled her into his chest. "Please," he said shakily, his arms wrapped around her waist.

She felt so safe in his arms, so at home…

 _I can't; this is too much_.

"Let go of me," she growled.

"No, not until you tell me what the fuck is going on."

"And why the fuck would I do that?" she snarled, hitting him with a blast of magic that sent him reeling, then storming out of the room, throwing her shirt back on.

She found Maxime in the library nestled in a big chair with a book in his hand. He looked up at her as she entered, and rose to his feet.

"Maxime, can you show Anders around please?" she said as evenly as she could.

Anders appeared in the doorway behind her, and Maxime nodded. "Of course, sweetie."

She stormed past Anders and walked back to her office. She slammed the door shut, and sank to the floor crying.


	18. A Perfectly Good Cup Of Tea, Wasted

He sipped his cup of tea happily, enjoying the hot liquid as it worked its way down his throat to warm his stomach. It was such a miserable day with the rains hammering down outside. He stretched out his leg, the muscle was still a little sore from the morning's arrow; he would need to rub some salve on it before bed to help relieve some of the pain there.

Lenny avoided the others sat at the far end of the table, much preferring his own company. Olivia was cleaning some armour in the armoury with two other Wardens, so Lenny was alone. Not that he minded much; he was never very good at keeping up a conversation - except with Olivia - but that was only because there was nobody else he felt comfortable with. She was so understanding and kind; unlike others she never hurried him to get his words out, or mocked him when he stuttered. He loved her, and despite being told all his life that nobody would ever love him, Olivia did. He still woke up every morning not quite believing she was lying next to him – let alone as his wife.

Maxime walked in then, with the new recruit, Anders, at his side. The blond mage looked sullen and thoroughly depressed. Everyone at the Keep was talking about his  _entrance_  and his relationship with Neri. Whatever had happened between them, it was clear Neri was seething, and Anders looked like he had taken a verbal beating from her.

Maxime was telling Anders a story about some of their drunken escapades, but Anders didn't seem very interested. They walked over to Lenny, and he could feel his heart beat faster, as it always did when he had to meet a stranger. He  _knew_  he wouldn't get ridiculed, he  _knew_  he wouldn't be mocked, especially by a man so sullen, but his body didn't seem to listen to his brain.

"This is Lenny; he's Olivia's husband," Maxime explained cheerfully.

Anders gave Lenny a small nod, which Lenny returned, before sipping at his tea again.

"I'll show you all the offices and libraries now, Anders. Do you like books? We have so many!" They both headed for the doors.

As soon as Maxime left with Anders, the ex-Templar, Joshua, stood and paced. "We have too many mages already!" he spat, running a hand through his bleach blond hair.

"You can never have too many mages, Josh," Terry said with a sigh, as he mussed his salt and pepper hair.

"They could be conspiring!" Joshua exclaimed, spinning on the old Warden accusingly.

"Don't be absurd, lad. Little Ella wouldn't hurt a fly, and everyone loves Maxime. Give these new ones a chance?" Tomm said rationally, trying to calm the ex-Templar down.

Joshua looked disgusted, and then looked at Lenny. "What about you, elf? What do you think?"

Lenny started to sweat; he could feel everyone's gaze upon him. "I-I don't ha-have an o-opinion," he stammered into his drink.

Joshua stood over him. "You never bloody do," he sneered. "Maybe you're a blood mage thrall? You're so damn quiet all the time, fuck knows what you're plotting," he growled.

Lenny shrunk into his seat, staring down at his tea.

"See, lads? He's one of them!" Joshua wailed, throwing his arms into the air.

Jaque rose from his seat. "Josh, leave him alone. He's not a blood mage thrall, nobody here is, and there aren't any bloody blood mages," he said sternly in his gravelly voice, sounding grave and threatening.

Terry nodded his head. "Why don't you just relax? You're being paranoid."

"Did you not see that elf bitch rip those Templars in two? She's a blood mage, I'm tellin' yah!"

Lenny's hands were starting to tremble; he hated it when Joshua got angry. He had such a temper, and his hatred for mages had always been fierce, but it had worsened since coming to Ferelden. He'd turned into a fanatic, at least that's what Lenny had heard the others whisper about him when they thought nobody was listening. On several occasions Joshua had made Ella cry; he'd even punched Maxime once to get the 'demons to show themselves'. Rafael had leapt at Joshua, and buried his fists in the ex-Templars face.

That had been the moment most people twigged that the mage and the rogue were more than just colleagues or friends. Lenny had known it much sooner than that; he had heard them whispering to one another. Not on purpose of course; his elven hearing gave him quite an advantage, and people often forgot he was even in the room when he sat quietly by himself. More than once he had heard or seen things he'd rather not have: the twins making out with one another as Joshua watched on, jerking off his small cock, or Tamsin begging Coline to let her cum as the purple haired noble slapped her hard across the ass. He was a fly on the wall, a shadow in a dark room; nobody paid attention to him, and he liked it that way.

And he absolutely hated conflict; it's why he had fled the Alienage. It was even why he had joined the Wardens; they were all brought together by one goal – to fight darkspawn. He had hoped it would mean he wouldn't be bullied or mocked anymore, and it had been true for the most part. There was teasing, occasionally, but he knew in his mind it was good natured fun, though his body still cowered from their words. The teasing had stopped after that; Lenny was quite certain Olivia had said something to them; she was always looking out for others, always striving to do more. He knew she wanted to make up for her past, for her one mistake. A mistake she blamed herself for, despite there being no way to have known.

Joshua was still ranting about Neri, saying how her magic was unnatural and gruesome. Lenny disagreed, not that he'd voice his opinion on such a matter; he had been impressed by the way the blonde elf handled the Templars in the yard. She gave them plenty of opportunity to leave, to just walk away. She invoked the Rite of Conscription, and still they refused to back down, and only then had she killed them. They were fools to attack a Grey Warden at all, let alone attack with all twenty of them in the yard watching on. Rafael had drawn his dagger, Olivia had her sword at the ready, and Lenny could tell Maxime had a spell on his lips, but none of that had been necessary; Neri could clearly handle her own.

"Perhaps that bitch wife of yours is a thrall too?" Joshua snarled at Lenny.

Lenny could feel his blood boil, his fists clenched tightly around his cup.

"She's always with beardy, maybe they're fucking?" Joshua spat.

Lenny leapt to his feet, and threw his hot tea in Joshua's face; the ex-Templar screamed.

"You fucking knife-eared prick!" Joshua wailed. "You're fucking dead!"

"Don't you ever insult Olivia again," Lenny snarled, for once not stuttering.

Joshua drew his knife, but Jaque clasped his shoulder. "Leave it, Josh," he warned menacingly.

Joshua pushed away from them, and stormed toward the doors; he threw them open in a huff, then there was a flash of silver, and Joshua's head rolled across the floor with a fountain of blood spurting out of his still-standing body.

They all felt it at once, and all realised what was happening.

_Darkspawn._

Tomm and Terry immediately engaged them with their swords, rushing forward with angry war cries. Jaque knocked a load of cutlery to the floor before grabbing the table ledge and turning to Lenny for help. Lenny joined him, their combined strength flipping the table on its side to offer them some cover, and none too soon, as arrows thudded into the thick wood.

Jaque started throwing the fallen cutlery at the darkspawn, as the others fought for their lives. Jaque glanced down at him. "Go, lad. Get to your wife!" He threw more knives and forks. "Now, go!"

Lenny ran for the kitchen, sliding through the doors as the thud of arrows hit the wood behind him. He grabbed supplies from the cupboards: chili powder, several small knives, and a big carving knife, and then ran out the back door.

They were everywhere. He started to panic, looking around frantically; he didn't know what to do.

_I have to find Olivia._

She was at the armoury. He headed through the gardens as it poured with rain, toward the East Wing. He ran around the corner and buried his dagger in a genlock's eye, grabbed the fallen monster's daggers and pressed forward. He killed a hurlock next, and took its sword as it died.

_Please be okay, love._

He grimaced as he picked up his pace into a sprint, his leg throbbing painfully. More darkspawn were in his way; he killed them all. He dashed into the armoury searching desperately for Olivia, but there were only darkspawn corpses.  _That's a good_ sign, he reassured himself. He equipped his long swords and some armour, and then rushed through the East Wing. He could hear the elven twins screaming from the guest hall; he ignored them and ran forward. He saw Keenan being dragged away by a group of darkspawn. He grimaced, but turned toward the offices. He killed anything that got in his way as he checked the offices and the library - all were empty, but there weren't any bodies either.

He ran into the main hall and gasped.

Stretched and shimmering across the breadth of the room was a great blue barrier, its light setting the room in an eerie glow. In front of it an ogre slammed its armoured fists down upon it, as the darkspawn around it bashed their weapons against it. On the other side was Neri, with her arms outstretched, her eyes closed and set in a deep frown of concentration, and to her left was Olivia.

He sighed with relief.  _Thank the Creators_.

She looked unhurt. He glanced at the others also behind the safety of Neri's barrier; one of the dwarves, Dworkin, the explosives expert, was there, and behind them all, was Maxime slouched against the wall, in a puddle of his own blood, with Anders crouched over him with glowing blue hands as he tried to heal him.

The ogre's pounding fists drew him back to the problem at hand.

 _If that barrier falls, Olivia will be put in harm's way_.

He gulped, and charged in.

He swiped at a hurlock, cutting its head clean off, stabbed a blade through the neck of a genlock, and then put the other through the chest of hurlock. He was a whirlwind as he cut them down. The ogre stormed toward him with a booming roar. Lenny ran at it, and slid though its legs, slicing its ankles as he did so. The ogre roared in pain, and Lenny leapt to his feet, burying his blades in a hurlock's belly. The ogre swiped at him and he ducked underneath it, then jabbed a sword into its abdomen, and it roared again. He rolled to the side as a hurlock swung its axe over his head; he pulled out his knife and tackled the hurlock to the floor, pushing the knife deep into its heart. He jumped to his feet, grabbing another sword, just as the ogre barrelled toward him; he leapt out of the way, then grabbed hold of a chink in its armour. The ogre reared, and tried to grab at him as he clung to its back.

"LENNY!" Olivia screamed.

He buried his sword in the ogre's neck, and it let out a strangled scream. He jumped off, and threw curry powder in a hurlock's face, then disarmed it; he spun, and buried the sword in the ogre's skull and it fell to the floor with a loud thud, finally dead.

"BEHIND YOU!"

He turned, and two arrows pierced his chest. He fell to his knees and stared at the approaching genlocks. The hurlock he had disarmed picked up a sword. Laughing, it walked toward him. Lenny grunted as he yanked the arrows out of him, and fell to the floor. He started to crawl toward Olivia, desperate to be near her one final time.

Olivia slammed her fists into the barrier; her eyes locked with Lenny's as he helplessly crawled toward her. He couldn't die, she wouldn't  _let_  him die!

She snapped her head to the side. "Drop the barrier!" she ordered, her voice breaking in her throat.

Neri opened her eyes and clenched her jaw; she didn't look at Olivia when she spoke. "There are too many darkspawn approaching. I don't have enough strength. I drop it, and it won't go back up," she said in total calmness.

"I don't care. He's dying!"

Neri finally looked at her, brown eyes dark and cold. "I'm sorry."

Olivia drew her sword and brandished it at the elf's neck. "Drop the  _fucking_  barrier!"

Neri didn't flinch; she stared, unblinking, at Olivia, her eyes glazing over as her arms continued to tremble.

"It's okay, love," Lenny rasped. Her head whipped around, he was lying on the floor at the foot of the barrier. She gasped and sank to her knees in front of him, her sword sinking with her; he was so close but she couldn't help him, couldn't even touch him.

"No," she cried as her sobs took her.

"You're safe," he said with a sad smile. He took a wheezy breath. "I love you."

Tears fell down her cheeks and she let out a strangled sob. "I love you too," she said; as she pressed her hand against the barrier, he lifted his to meet it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ElyssaCousland, thank you so much, this fic would be nothing without you!
> 
> To those reading, leaving kudos - thank you! And never be afraid to leave a comment, I could chat about DA for hours. 
> 
> More of the darkspawn attack next week, and a lot of blood and gore, just to forewarn you all.


	19. Against The Black Tide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally didn't forget to post this last night, nope, not at all...
> 
> Thank you ElyssaCousland, as always!

Rafael had felt panic several times in his life; most notably, the day his parents were brutally murdered while he hid under the bed, the day Layla was murdered, and the day he was dragged away in chains, after he was betrayed by the man he loved. But he could add another moment to that list now, as he ran up the muddy road toward the Keep at Coline's side, with nothing but screams and darkspawn ahead of them. They'd been out hunting again; upon returning they had heard fighting echoing down the hillside and then they had felt the darkspawn.

"What the fuck is going on?" Coline growled, as she loosed another arrow into a charging hurlock.

Rafael didn't reply, he simply ran into the yard, his dagger slicing into a genlock. He looked around; there were bodies  _everywhere_. None had a thick red beard though, thank the Maker. He turned to see Edd, knelt in the mud, clutching Angus's cold body in his arms.

"Look–"

A hurlock's sword went clean through him before Rafael could warn him; blood spurted out of the Marcher's mouth, and he slumped over Angus' body. Coline loosed an arrow angrily into the bastard hurlock, and it too fell to the muddy ground, dead.

"Fuck," she hissed as she pulled the arrow out of the darkspawn's skull.

Rafael's hands were in his hair as his breath left him in panicked bursts. "Damn it," he muttered. "We have to find the others… there  _must_  be survivors. There have to be."

She gave him a sceptical look, her brown eyes doubting, but nodded her head.

They ran up the Keep's steps, and into the entranceway. There were  _so_  many bodies; mostly maids and soldiers though. They rushed through the centre of the Keep, past the offices and library, eyes searching, scanning, hoping, and then he saw silver and blue out of the corner of his eye.

"Maker, no!" Coline cried.

Little Ella and Tamsin were dead on the hard stone floor, surrounded by a dozen darkspawn corpses.

Coline ran to Tamsin's body, and hugged her close. Rafael crouched down, and reached out with a trembling hand to close poor Ella's eyes. He took a shaky breath, bile rising in his throat.

_How did this happen?_

He clenched and unclenched his fists, then looked up at Coline, and squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry; we  _have_  to keep going. We can't help the fallen."

"They're all  _dead_ , Raf," she rasped, her eyes brimming with tears, her face pale. He swallowed thickly; she was starting to panic as her world crashed down around her again, he knew. He had to get her to focus, he  _needed_  her help, she couldn't fall apart now.

"We  _will_  kill these bastards, but I need your help," he urged. "We cannot break down now. We  _must_  find the others, we have to  _stop_  this."

Coline's sadness turned to fury, and she nodded her head.

They reached the main hall; his grey eyes roamed over the piles of darkspawn corpses littering the ground, including that of an ogre's. His eyes were drawn to the barrier at the back of the room bathing the hall in an eerie blue glow. He could see Neri on the other side of it, her arms outstretched, as she stared down at something at the base of the barrier to her left.

Coline began firing arrows into three darkspawn on their side of the barrier and Rafael leapt into action, helping her to finish them off. As the darkspawn dropped to the ground the body of Lenny was revealed to them at the barrier's edge, Olivia was crouched on the other side staring at them in disbelief. Rafael dropped to Lenny's side and rolled him over, checking for a pulse.

"Olivia, he's still alive, but only just," he informed her grimly.

The blonde warrior turned her head sharply to look up at Neri. "Drop the  _fucking_  barrier!"

Neri let out a sigh and her arms fell to her sides as the barrier crumbled. Olivia pulled Lenny into her lap, applying pressure to his injuries.

"Rafe…" Coline's voice was grave as she lifted her hand to point at something at the very back of the room.

His heart stopped in his chest and he sucked in a breath through his teeth.  _Max_. He rushed forward; Maxime was lying on the ground in a pool of blood as the new recruit worked on him.

Rafael dropped to his knees. "Is he–" His voice broke as his hand reached out to touch his lover.

Anders looked up at him, wiping his brow. "He's lost a lot of blood; I had to drag him in here while fighting off darkspawn, but I've done what I can." The scruffy mage looked to Lenny as Olivia shouted desperately for help. "I have to help," he said, as he rushed over to the others.

Rafael touched the mage's robes; they were soaked with his blood, and Rafael's chest tightened as his world spun. It was happening  _again_. He was cursed. Everyone he loved died or left him. A tear fell down his cheek as cupped Max's face.

"Please, not again, not with him," he whispered.

Neri had her back to the doors; the dwarf and Coline were with her as another loud bang sent them moving a step forward as the door gave way just a fraction more. Her skin was crawling, her mind itching like crazy as the darkspawn on the other side of the doors worked themselves up into a frenzy. They knew how close they were to breeching the doors. Neri could feel  _all_  of them; she could see into their minds, sense their plans. Coline suddenly cried out as the wood splintered behind her, a lance grazing her shoulder.

The doors would not last long.

Neri clenched her teeth as the door rocked again. "Right!" she screamed, getting the attention of everyone in the room; even Anders looked up from his healing trance over Lenny, and Rafael did as well as he took deep calming breaths from Maxime's side. "I can sense an ogre, ten hurlocks, six genlocks – three of which are archers, a  _really_  big genlock alpha, and three, no,  _five_  shrieks," she yelled through her teeth.

"How do you know that?" Coline cried, as another thud smashed into the door at their back.

"Just hold the fucking door!" Neri ran up the hall, toward Anders. "Can you fight?" she asked desperately.

Anders could barely shake his head in reply; he was completely exhausted.

Neri turned to Rafael.

"No," he said adamantly.

"Raf–"

"I'm not leaving his side; I can't," he said, as his voice cracked.

"I need your help with this fight," she urged.

"Put your barrier back up and we won't have to!" he cried, grasping at straws.

"I have no mana left, and we're out of lyrium," she said gravely.

He looked around desperately; there was only one door out of the main hall, and no windows; they were completely trapped. He took a deep breath and stared down at the bearded mage; he looked so pale and clammy and his breathing was so shallow.

"If you don't help us, we all die," she insisted, leaning down to get his attention again.

He looked up at her with a sigh before kissing Max on the lips and getting to his feet to help the others.

Neri started giving orders; sending Coline to snipe from the relative safety of the far corner, ordering Olivia to fight the hurlocks, she tasked Rafael with the genlocks and told Dworkin to put his explosives along the edges of the room.

Rafael moved to stand on the right hand side; Olivia was level with him on the left. Neri stood protectively in front of Anders, Lenny and Max at the back. Her face was grimy with sweat, the strands of her blonde hair stuck to her face. Behind her Coline lifted her bow in anticipation and Dworkin had an axe ready in case anything got too close to where he stood near Coline.

Neri took a deep breath; this would not be an easy fight. "The ogre and alpha are mine," she growled, her lips curling in disgust.

Olivia looked over her shoulder frowning at the elf. "How are you going to–"

Neri pulled a dagger out, and opened her palm and Olivia gasped.

"Blood magic?" Rafael hissed. "You  _have_  to be fucking joking!?"

"Neri, you can't–" Anders began to say, his eyes wide.

She gave him a sad smile and then the doors crashed open. It was as she had warned; the genlock alpha barrelled in first, roaring loudly. The ogre was not far behind, nor were the rest of the darkspawn. Olivia and Rafael leapt into action, engaging the hurlocks and genlocks as Coline aided them with her bow. The room shook and fire erupted up the edges of the room where the explosives had been planted; the shrieks had foolishly thought to sneak up the sides to flank the Wardens. Neri shouted at the alpha, trying to draw it to her instead of the rogue and warrior. Luckily, it obeyed and slammed its shield to the ground as it roared at her, spit flying from its mouth.

She clenched her teeth and stabbed her knife into her wrist, gasping from the sharp pain, and then dragged it up her arm. The sensation was euphoric and she moaned slightly as the blood began to seep out of the long slit up her arm. She didn't dare look at Anders; she didn't want to see how horrified he was, and instead pulled the blood out to swirl around her, feeling the power it held.

The blood churned around Neri, encasing her, and Anders felt sick. When had she become a  _blood_  mage? How could she do that? They had  _always_  agreed that blood magic was foul and twisted, but she seemed to enjoy it, she had  _moaned_  when she cut herself. The alpha roared in outrage and charged toward her; Neri didn't flinch, she didn't move, and for a split second Anders couldn't breathe. And then her blood surged forward and slammed into the alpha's shield, stopping the darkspawn in its tracks. The torrent of red liquid rushed around the edges of the towering shield and then made contact with the darkspawn's skin. Anders had never heard a darkspawn scream before, and he never wanted to ever again. It was blood curdling and ear piercing. The creature's shield clanged to the ground and Anders could see Neri's blood wrapping around the alpha's body, the thick tendrils climbing their way up to the creature's head. It was mesmerising and horrifying to watch, and all the while the darkspawn shuddered and wailed in agony, like the blood was burning its flesh.

Rafael ignored the alpha's screams as he ducked under a genlock's swing and then grabbed a hold of its armour and pulled it onto his blade. A mabari war hound slammed into a hurlock to his right and ripped into its neck. Barkspawn, that was Neri's hound. He looked up, over to the door as Esteban staggered in, their eyes locked, and then Esteban was falling forward and Rafael was rushing to catch him. Blood spurted out of the wound in Esteban's neck as Rafael held him, he tired to stem the blood flow but he knew it was futile; Esteban had taken a sword to the neck. Esteban tried to speak but only blood poured out of his mouth.

"Shhh," Rafael soothed as he ran his hands through the other man's hair. Esteban gave him a sad smile before his eyes glazed over and he stilled in his arms. Rafael cursed as he lowered his friend's body to the ground and closed his eyes.

Rafael forced himself back to his feet and ran to aid Olivia as she dodged the ogre's attempt to grab at her. His dagger cut across the back of its knee and the creature roared in outrage. His nose was filled with the stench of blood and he chanced a glance at the alpha; blood had started to spray out of its mouth as Neri's magic slowly killed it. The ogre turned its attention toward its alpha ally and the elven mage, allowing Rafael to finish off the last of the annoying little genlocks.

Neri smirked as the ogre roared at her, stamping a foot in outrage. It charged, pushing past the remaining hurlocks in order to reach her. She waited patiently for it to get closer, and then she clenched her hands into fists and threw her arms into the air. The alpha finally died, exploding in a gory mess, sending pieces of flesh splattering to the floor. She kept most of its blood, bound to hers, dark with the taint, and forced the torrent of blood to leap through the air, straight into the charging ogre. The creature stumbled and crashed to the ground, sliding to a stop at Neri's feet. She wound her arms through the air once more and the blood wrapped around the ogre.

It struggled, thrashing, shaking, and writhing on the ground, but the blood enveloped it like spider's silk and slowly suffocated it. The creature screamed but Neri's blood flooded into its mouth, cutting it off, making Anders shudder in horror, his eyes transfixed by the gruesome sight. Neri moved around enough that Anders could see her face, she was... she was  _smiling_. A twisted, feral looking grin as she eyed the corpse at her feet. She looked  _pleased_  by her work. He felt sick. Their eyes met, briefly, hers were so dark, darker than he had ever seen them, her smile faded, her eyes rolled backwards and then she collapsed to the ground. Anders took a moment to recover his wits before he rushed to her side and started to heal the deep gash from her wrist to her elbow. Blood magic was always harder to heal than a normal cut, and his already flagging reserves sputtered out as he tried to close the wound.

"I need lyrium and healing potions," he cried as he looked up at the others desperately. They were all staring at Neri and the ogre corpse in shock, the darkspawn all finally dead. " _Now_!"

"I'll check the rest of the Keep," the purple haired archer said, as she disappeared out of the door.

He stared back at Neri, gripping her blood slicked arm with his tired ones, holding it above her head, praying to the Maker that she hadn't lost too much blood. "Damn it, Neri, what did you do?" He shook his head, now was not the right time to think about  _how_  she got this injury; he needed to focus on getting her well again. "Please,  _please_  hold on, love." He squeezed his eyes shut. He'd come all this way to see her, to be with her... If she died  _now_. No. He wouldn't let that happen. Barkspawn came to nuzzle at his owner's face, whining quietly. "She'll be okay, boy," he promised, giving the dog a weak smile.

"I can't sense anymore darkspawn nearby," Olivia informed them, as she limped back to Lenny's side, planting a kiss on the unconscious elf's forehead, before settling at his side.

Rafael stroked Neri's mabari, looking down at the elf gravely, he glanced at the healer. "You had no idea?" he asked. Anders shook his head and Rafael nodded before he collapsed down next to Maxime, completely exhausted. His lover was still unconscious, but his skin didn't look quite so clammy now.

Coline rushed back in then, carrying blue and red bottles in her arms; she shared them out and the healer downed several lyrium potions before he began to heal Neri. Rafael pulled Max into his lap, holding him close, he kissed the mage's sweat slicked hair, breathing deeply.

They were going to be okay...the darkspawn were defeated, for now.


	20. Bad First Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Lys as always for beta reading this! And thanks for the comments and kudos and all that, guys! :D

Wave after wave of the beasts had stood between her and her friend, between her and her Wardens. She wanted nothing more than to go and search for survivors, to search for  _Neri_. But Arietta was Warden Commander of Ferelden and she had a job to do. She glanced behind her at Mhairi and Oghren and gave them a nod, before they headed up the steps.

Back outside, the dark skies had begun to lighten and the rain was finally stopping. A rasping, unfamiliar voice spoke from around the corner as they walked out onto the battlements and Arietta's stomach dropped; that was  _not_  a human sounding voice. And that meant that the dying Warden they had found, Rowland, had been right.

"Be taking this one gently, we are wishing no more death than necessary," the voice said.

"Necessary?" a man's voice spat. "As if your kind has ever done anything else."

Spurred on by the threat of another death, Arietta raced around the corner.

"You are thinking you know of our kind, human? It is understandable, but that will soon be changed," a darkspawn rasped.

"Others will come, creature! They will stop you," a man she assumed was the Seneschal growled.

Arietta drew her daggers and cleared her throat.

The talking darkspawn faced her. "It seems your words be true, more than you are guessing."

"It really does talk," Mhairi said in shock.

"Well, let's shut it up!" Oghren held his battleaxe at the ready.

"Capture the Grey Warden. These others can be killed," the darkspawn ordered.

Mhairi and Oghren took on the hurlocks, as Arietta threw a smoke bomb to the ground, and sprinted toward the talking darkspawn, she slammed into it, before it could cast a spell, and buried her daggers in its chest. It wheezed up at her, eyes bulging in shock.

"Gotta be faster than that," she hissed as she twisted her blades; the darkspawn stilled beneath her. She leapt back to her feet, and threw her throwing knives into the remaining darkspawn.

With all of the monsters dead she helped the Seneschal to his feet. "Commander, I owe you my life," he said, as he ran a shaking hand through his grey hair.

"Glad I got here in time, Seneschal," she said politely. "Neri was here, have you seen her?" she asked more frantically.

He frowned. "Not for a while, I'm sorry; the darkspawn took us by surprise. Lieutenant Gabel is dead, as are many of the Wardens."

She lowered and shook her head.  _Damn it_.

"Then we need to help the wounded." She turned to Mhairi. "Go with Oghren and look for survivors in the West Wing, Varel and I will take the East and Centre."

They nodded and sprinted off.

"Are all the darkspawn dead?" Varel asked quietly.

She chewed on her lip. She couldn't feel anymore darkspawn, but if the Wardens had been surprised, then there could be more hidden away somewhere.

"For now."

They walked down the stairs together, taking in the carnage.

She felt sick to her stomach as they passed more corpses than she could count. It had been a massacre, and she had been lucky to find Oghren when she did; from there they had gone on in search of Varel. She had yet to see any evidence of Neri's magic on the fallen darkspawn - no gory explosions of blood or stains on the ceiling from her tossing them around with her force magic - and that made Arietta worried.

_Please be okay._

But there wasn't a body either, so that was a small reassurance. It was Arietta's fault Neri was even here at all; she had sent her on ahead to greet the Orlesian Wardens, and now they were all dead.

They checked the bedrooms first; Varel knelt down and closed the eyes of two dwarves, he said their names were Urin and Durak, they were both from Orzammar, and had been best friends their entire lives. They both joined the Wardens together; it was tragic, but fitting that they died side by side.

Then they reached the guest hall. It was a gory mess; two elven twins had been butchered by the darkspawn, their heads cut off and put on the other's bodies. Varel nearly threw up at the sight of it. He said their names were Adel and Lucy. Arietta couldn't help but scowl. They were such beautiful girls, they didn't deserve this; none of them did.

They searched all of the studies, libraries and rooms until they reached the main hall, passing yet more corpses along the way.

Arietta walked through the door, and cried out. Neri was sitting on the floor, rubbing a poultice into a long dark line up her arm, with Barkspawn at her side, wagging his stumpy tail as always.

"Neri!" Arietta shouted, as she raced forward.

The elf looked up and smiled weakly. "About time you showed up,  _Commander_ ," she rasped.

Arietta walked over the graveyard of darkspawn corpses; the room was  _coated_  in blood, more so than she had ever seen. She frowned as she spotted the alpha shield and realised there wasn't an alpha corpse. Her eyes landed on the ogre next, it was… wrapped in tendrils of... _is that blood?_  She swallowed and turned away from the horrifying sight, her eyes returning to Neri.

"Are you okay?" Arietta asked softly as she crouched in front of the elf, inspecting the long scar running up Neri's arm. Neri looked wan, her skin waxy and stained with gore, her hair stuck to her forehead. Her eyes were dark, sunken and tired, and there was a tremble to her hands as she rubbed the poultice in.

Neri nodded her head feebly, and pulled her arm back almost defensively. "How is it out there?" she meekly asked.

Arietta frowned and took a deep breath. "Not good. There are a lot of dead," she said grimly.

A black-haired man looked to Varel; his hand was resting on a red-haired man's shoulder. "Who?" he asked, his voice a deep gravelly baritone.

Varel sighed. "Gable, Urin, Durak, Lucy, Adel, Rowland…" He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair.

The black haired man grimaced. "Ella, Tamsin, Edd, Angus and Esteban are as well," he said sullenly. The red haired man reached up and squeezed the hand on his shoulder.

"So much death," Varel said, shaking his head.

"I-I think Jaque, Tomm, and Terry, m-might be too," a brown-haired elf said, from the step he was sitting on. A blonde woman was sitting with him, weeping softly into her hands. "And I know Joshua's de-dead," the elf finished.

Arietta noticed a familiar looking mage sitting against the far wall: Anders. He was rubbing his temples, and looked almost as sick as Neri. The last time Arietta had seen him had been during Uldred's revolt; Anders had been accidentally freed from solitary by a rage demon, and had come to Neri's rescue. Arietta wasn't sure how he got here, but she didn't have time to ask.

"How did this fucking happen?" a violet-haired woman demanded, scowling as she unfolded her arms and stepped forward.

"We don't know, but we will find out," Varel promised.

"From below," Neri rasped.

They all turned to look at her.

The black-haired man frowned. "You think there are Deep Roads below the Keep?"

Neri shrugged. "Ask Howe." She looked up at Arietta. "Nathaniel Howe is in the dungeon, or was. We thought you'd want to speak with him."

Arietta's eyebrows leapt up her face. "Then I'll talk to him at once." She hadn't seen Nathaniel since she was very little, she barely remembered him. He had been in the Free Marches during the Blight, if she recalled correctly. She briefly wondered if he even knew...

"I'll take you to him," the redhead man offered weakly, cutting off her thoughts.

"Max…" the black-haired man growled in warning.

"I can't help any other way, but I can do this," the bearded man said with a shrug, and then he struggled to his feet, clutching at his gut. He limped toward her, and smiled weakly. "I'm Maxime," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Commander. I wish it was under better circumstances; I had this huge party planned out and –"

"Save your breath, Max," the black-haired man scolded softly.

Maxime guffawed, and then groaned in pain; the black-haired man sighed heavily.

He led her out of the room, albeit quite slowly.

"How did you get hurt?" she inquired as they walked down the corpse-cluttered halls.

He let out a sigh. "Hurlock took me by surprise, got me in the belly; I was giving our new recruit, Anders, a tour at the time. Do you know him? Neri and Anders clearly have a history…"

"I do. I met him once in the Tower during the Blight," she said with a feeble smile.

He nodded. "Well, he escaped from the Tower for the seventh time, came riding in on a horse with two Templars on his heels. They hit him with a smite, and then kicked him into the mud. When Neri got outside she screamed at them and threw them across the yard."

Arietta groaned. The Chantry would use something like that as fodder to prove that an autonomous Circle wasn't working.

"The Templars wouldn't leave, so Neri had no choice but to kill them."

Arietta ran a hand through her long brown hair. "Wonderful," she sighed sarcastically.

He rambled on at great length about the darkspawn suddenly coming out of nowhere, his stabbing, Anders dragging him into the main hall, Neri and the blonde-haired woman, Olivia, running in not long after, Neri putting up a barrier, the brunette elf, Lenny, nearly dying, the black-haired man, Rafael, and the violet-haired woman, Coline, racing in and saving the elf's life.

"Apparently another wave of darkspawn attacked not long after I passed out," Maxime continued. "Neri… she stopped them," he said ominously.

"What do you mean 'stopped them'?" she asked tentatively, watching his face carefully.

Maxime glanced down at her and chewed on his lip. "I wasn't awake, so maybe ask the others? But Rafael was not happy, and well, you saw that ogre corpse, and the alpha's shield despite their being no alpha corpse, right?"

She swallowed and nodded.

"That was all Neri. She took them on herself."

Arietta felt sick; the scar up Neri's arm…

"Did she get stabbed by any darkspawn?" Arietta almost whispered.

Maxime shook his head, and Arietta took a deep breath.

" _Maker._ " She swallowed down her fears and worries; they had more important things to deal with.

They descended the stairs to one of the dungeons. It was apparently one of many; this one, in particular, was meant for solitary prisoners. Maxime explained that Nathaniel had attacked Rafael, Olivia, and Lenny just that morning.

She approached his cell. "Nathaniel Howe?"

A man stepped forward; his long black hair was greasy and tangled, and his linen shirt was muddy. He also had several bruises and cuts on his face, but he thankfully hadn't been eaten by darkspawn.

"Well if it isn't the great hero, conqueror of the Blight and vanquisher of all evil," he drawled. "Aren't you supposed to be ten feet tall with lightning bolts shooting out of your eyes?" he mocked.

She sighed. "Actually, you're thinking of Neri – you know, Surana the Slayer? I just gathered and organised the armies, found all the evidence against Loghain, won the Landsmeet, led the armies to retake Denerim, and married the king."

He ignored her glib comments. "Somehow I just thought my father and brother's murderer would be more impressive."

She took a deep breath; she did  _not_  want to have to deal with this now, but she didn't want to have to kill  _this_  Howe either, not if she could prevent it. "Thomas was torturing and raping servants when my brother and I returned to Highever before the Landsmeet; he  _had_  to be stopped. As for your father… he betrayed my parents, and killed almost everyone at Highever, including my nephew. I killed him when I rescued Anora from his estate; he too was torturing people, and had to be stopped. But I heard you were overseas for all of that, so I can see why you might be a little  _confused_ ," she said coolly, in absolutely no mood to debate Arl Rendon fucking Howe.

Nathaniel's frown deepened as his lips curled. "Your father was going to sell us out to the Orlesians!"

That was news to her. She folded her arms. "Did your father tell you that?"

"How could he? A Grey Warden stole into his estate and slaughtered him before I could even talk to him," he growled. "I came here–" He scowled. "I thought I was going to try to kill you, to lay a trap for you, but then I realised I just wanted to reclaim some of my family's things. It's all I have left," he said gloomily.

She felt a pang of sadness in her chest; his circumstances were so similar to her own. "I didn't realise any of your family's possessions were still here," she honestly told him; she looked to Maxime and he shrugged.

"Father didn't take it all with him to Denerim." Nathaniel crossed his arms. "Look, I don't know what happened with the Couslands. It sounds like it was horrible; the entire war was. Whatever my father did, however, shouldn't harm my entire family. The Howes have been stripped of everything, and it's all thanks to you; and now you get to decide my fate. Ha, ironic isn't it?"

She stepped closer to him. "It was horrible," she agreed. "And it isn't over. Nathaniel, I need to know if there are any tunnels running under the Keep, perhaps some that lead to the Deep Roads?" she said, changing the subject.

His brow furrowed. "Why do you need to know that?"

"I just lost a lot of men, good men, to a darkspawn ambush. It must have come from underground," she explained impatiently.

He looked shocked, and scratched his jaw. "There are some tunnels, in the cellars, I think; they run pretty deep. You can access them via the yard."

She nodded. "Thank you. You are free to go, and may take your belongings with you; if there is anything else in the keep that belongs to you or your family, let us know, and I'll have them handed over to you immediately."

He gawked at her. "You're letting me go?"

"You're letting him go?" Maxime echoed, in shock. "He put an arrow in Lenny's leg, and stabbed Rafael!" he exclaimed.

She ignored Maxime's worries, still looking at the prisoner. "I have more important things to deal with right now; however, if you return and threaten me or my Wardens again I will not hesitate to kill you." She turned and walked up the steps.

Maxime sighed from behind her, and then she heard the click of the cell door opening.


	21. Smoke And Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update incoming - totally forgot to post this shorter chapter here... Ahem. Thanks ElyssaCousland! And thank you all for following this!

She inhaled more of the dusty stale air, and loosed another arrow; it found its mark, straight through a hurlock's eye. The faintest of smiles touched her lips as the hurlock dropped to the floor, dead. Arietta had ordered all of those able to fight to the cellars to clear out any remaining darkspawn threats in the tunnels than ran below the Keep.

Coline hadn't developed much of an opinion of their Commander yet, but she certainly got shit done; the pyres were being built, the corpses gathered and identified, and every survivor had been given jobs to do. The Commander held herself like the noble that she was, but she wasn't pompous or arrogant, and she was clearly devastated by the deaths despite not knowing any of them personally.

Arietta and Rafael were fighting back to back in the centre of the room, quite artfully too. It was strange to see Rafael fighting so  _intimately_  with almost a complete stranger, but Coline had to admit, their fighting styles complimented each other beautifully. Arietta was pinpoint accurate, using stealth and precision to deliver fatal blows, whereas Rafael got in close and personal, keeping the foe distracted for her.

Oghren, on the other hand, was a vile, gruesome and messy fighter. His axe swings severed limbs, cut through blood vessels and ripped out guts, and soon the entire room stank of rotting flesh and taint. And the floor... the floor was a slippery pool of body parts and fluids. It was disgusting. Olivia was much more graceful, but not any less brutal with her attacks. It was always strange to see her turn from a sweet, friendly woman into a battering ram of death.

Coline remained in the doorway where nothing could sneak up on her, or get splattered onto her by the smelly dwarf. She loosed another arrow into a genlock trying to sneak up on Rafael; the arrow landed in its neck, and it started to gurgle. Rafael heard the noise, and finished it off with a small nod at Coline in thanks.

The cellars weren't just full of darkspawn though; there were ghouls, undead and even prisoners still alive, trapped in their cells, begging for freedom. Arietta and Olivia freed them without much thought. Rafael didn't seem too impressed, but he didn't say anything either.

And then a pile of rubble blocked their path.

"It must have collapsed from the dwarves' damned explosives," Rafael muttered, ruffling his curls with his hand.

"Will leaving the rubble here stop the darkspawn?" Arietta asked, as she inspected the fallen debris, pressing her hand against the rock.

Rafael gave it a good kick. "Seems solid enough, but I don't want to leave it to chance."

"There could be some Deep Road tunnels further in, maybe even some dwarven doors that we could close," Olivia suggested, as she wiped down her sword of darkspawn blood.

"Oh aye, those would be good," Oghren grunted.

"I'm sure Voldrik can cut a way through," Rafael said in agreement.

"Okay, we'll let Sergeant Maverlies know." Arietta turned to leave.

Maverlies was one of the few soldiers left alive. A good woman, though a little cold, she mostly kept to herself. There were rumours that she and Gable were dating. Coline wondered if they were true, and if so, how the woman was feeling now; if she was heartbroken, she certainly didn't show it.

Coline, on the other hand, was a mess. She had barely held herself together long enough to fight off the remaining darkspawn. Having a goal, a purpose helped, but there was so much death around them, so much unnecessary loss. Tamsin had been on the ground, lifeless and cold, her body butchered by swords and arrows. Coline didn't love her; she couldn't even really consider her a friend. They got along well and spent time together, but they didn't talk much. Coline didn't even know her surname, or if she had any brothers or sisters, or any other number of things that a friend should know. Tamsin was wonderfully submissive, something quite difficult to find, especially among the Wardens; most of the Order were all thrill junkies or power hungry. But Tamsin bent over backwards for Coline, and trusted her entirely.

She had only ever cried once before, when a small village had been attacked. The brutality of their deaths had made Coline sick to her stomach, and Tamsin had been there, kissing her, licking her, touching her. It was the only time she let the other woman in; after it was done, she went back to their usual clinical routine. But today she couldn't seem to stop the tears from falling down her, most likely filthy face. It was just one more thing that had slipped through her fingers, one more thing that had made her happy, lost forever. One more thing she had no control over.

They reached the yard once more, where three pyres stood. Around the edges were the corpses of the fallen Wardens, soldiers, servants and staff, covered by sheets and blankets. Coline was grateful she wouldn't need to see any of their dead, lifeless faces staring up at her; watching Esteban and Edd die had been enough to make her knees go weak and her stomach churn. It was horrible. She was glad she had only found Tamsin's body; Coline probably would have lost it completely if she had seen the Nevarran die.

They loaded the Warden's pyre first – there were so many bodies. Of the sixteen Wardens that had come over from Orlais to help run the Keep only five now remained.  _Five._  Lenny and Max were badly hurt but would be okay, but they were all in mourning, all exhausted, all lost. Rafael lifted a body, placing kisses on either side of its cheeks – she didn't need to see the body to know that it was Esteban that he was placing on the pyre. He had been a wonderful man, always laughing; she would miss his laugh. Even those she didn't particularly like, she knew she would miss; things were going to be so quiet now. She watched as Varel and Rafael lifted Gable's body onto the pyre next, giving him the recognition he deserved as a brother.

Coline wiped her eyes again, annoyed at herself for breaking down so easily. But she didn't handle surprises well – she never had. So much could change in an instant, and this was testament to that. For so long the Wardens had been a stable structure that she could rely upon; there was a routine, a set way of things, but now? It had all been obliterated, erased. Through the smoke and her watery eyes, she was struggling to see how any of them would carry on after this.

She watched as they loaded up the other pyres. The one for soldiers was piled high. It made sense, of course; they hadn't been trained to fight darkspawn. The final pyre for servants and staff was even larger – a slaughter, that's what this had been. The question on everyone's lips was  _why_? Why had this happened?

"Wardens! Brothers, sisters,  _friends,_ " the Commander called out as she held a flickering torch. "Today we grieve. We grieve for the lives taken, for the people we lost, for the futures that won't be. They were taken from us unjustly,  _abruptly,_  and by those we are sworn to fight." She paced up and down the pyres as she spoke, eyeing them all with icy blue eyes. "Tomorrow, we will fight back. Tomorrow we will show the darkspawn why one attack will never be enough to best us, why any number of attacks will not be enough, why the  _Blight_  was not enough. They attacked us at our home, they thought to surprise us... well, we shall surprise  _them_.  _Nothing_  is stronger than the bond of a family recently put through a tragedy." Arietta lit the first pyre, and then the next and the next. "United we stand and scattered they  _will_ fall!" she shouted, as the flames whooshed across the corpses, bathing the yard in a fierce orange. They all cheered their agreement, and then watched the flames with their arms crossed over their chests.


	22. Out In The Open

Maxime had given up wiping the tears away; they were still falling even as he walked into the battered main hall. The room was a mess; there were darkspawn corpses everywhere still: the two ogres and the bloody remains of the alpha, and of course the sides of the room were charred from Dworkin's explosives.

He didn't like looking at the ogre corpse. He hadn't understood at first, when he'd woken up in Rafael's arms with the fight won. He couldn't comprehend what foul magic could possibly do that to a living creature, and then he had seen the long line running up Neri's arm, the haunted look on her face, and the horrified glares the others were giving her, and he knew; he knew she used blood magic.

He wasn't sure what was worse: the idea that she had made a deal with a demon then and there in order to save them all, or if she had been a practicing blood mage for years. If she had made a deal then and there, Maxime couldn't help but feel responsible; perhaps if he hadn't been injured, he would have been able to help with the fight, Anders might have been less exhausted and have been able to help too. If she had been a practicing blood mage for years, then perhaps that was how she survived the Archdemon, but that only made him wonder how far she was willing to go to stay alive. Or maybe it wasn't for her at all but the people she loved? Was there anything she wouldn't do for them? But he could hardly blame her for that… if Rafael was in trouble he would go to the ends of the world to save him.

He shook his head; he would drive himself mad with his ramblings one day. He would wait for her explanation before passing any sort of judgement; it was the least any of them owed her after she saved their lives.

Maxime gripped Rafael's arm tightly as they climbed over a hurlock corpse; Maxime smiled at him in thanks. He might have been healed, but he still felt extremely weak, and he could tell Anders, Neri and Lenny were too; they were all half dead on their feet as they walked.

They all gathered in a circle. Rafael stood at Maxime's left, then Coline, Lenny, Olivia, Varel, Arietta, Neri, Anders, Oghren, and finally Mhairi on Maxime's right. Tears welled in his eyes once again; it was such a small group now, too many were dead. He sniffed and wiped his nose, and Rafael gave his hand a slight squeeze.

Something had changed in the rogue since the attack. He no longer seemed to care if others knew about their relationship, and for that Maxime was very grateful; he needed Rafael, now more than ever.

"I think it's clear what our priorities ought to be: we attack the darkspawn where  _they_  live," Rafael said gruffly. "We need to end these talking darkspawn, stop them from doing anything like this ever again."

Arietta sighed and ran a hand through her chestnut hair. "I agree that such a thing is important, but we have more sensitive matters to attend to first. I want this Keep cleaned of all darkspawn and darkspawn blood; we've lost too many to lose more to the taint sickness."

"We need to find Kristoff as well, tell him what happened," Olivia pointed out.

Arietta turned to the warrior. "Who is Kristoff?" she asked almost wearily.

"Another Warden. He had a small team with him, and was investigating something in Amaranthine," Olivia explained. "We haven't heard from him for a while," she added worriedly.

Arietta nodded. "Okay, we'll look into that. What else?" she asked looking around their circle.

"The trading routes were being attacked, we're not sure if it's darkspawn or not," Varel said with a sigh.

"Noted. Do we have any idea where these darkspawn are all coming from?" Arietta asked.

Neri lifted her arm with great effort to run her hand through her chaotic blonde curls. "There was a rumour; I heard Angus and Edd discussing it. Apparently there's a chasm full of darkspawn nearby."

Arietta cocked an eyebrow at the elf. "A chasm?"

Neri shrugged. "Some men in Amaranthine found it. I'm sure we could ask them for directions," she said slowly, every word seemingly draining her of energy.

"Looks like Amaranthine will be our first stop then." Arietta concluded. "We need to make Oghren, Anders, and Mhairi Wardens tonight, if possible."

"What about Keenan? His body was never found, was it?" Olivia asked.

"I – I saw h-him being dragged away," Lenny stuttered. "I- I couldn't, I h-had to find y-you, love." Olivia squeezed his shoulder and smiled sadly at him.

"Why would the darkspawn drag him away? I thought they only did that with women?" Coline asked with a crinkle of her nose.

"These aren't ordinary darkspawn, though," Maxime pointed out.

"All right," Arietta sighed, shifting on her feet slightly. "If that is everything, we should get back to cleaning this place up –"

"That is  _not_  everything," Rafael stepped forward, his eyes locked on Neri's, "blood mage," he hissed.

Neri rubbed her arm self-consciously, her eyes suddenly finding her boots the most interesting thing in the room.

"I've never seen anything so–" Anders shook his head, a dark shadow passing across his face. "How could you make a deal with a demon? I thought… I thought you were better than that."

Neri winced slightly at his words but continued to stare at her boots.

"I thought you hated blood magic?" Arietta asked her quietly.

Neri's stare at the ground turned into a scowl at their words. "I'm not a blood mage," she finally mumbled.

They all looked at her with confused expressions.

"Bullshit," Olivia spat. " _Look_  at that ogre corpse! You slit your fucking arm from wrist to elbow! How exactly are you  _not_  a blood mage?"

"Neri, look at me. How long have you been practicing?" Arietta demanded.

"And what in the Void were you thinking when you started!?" Anders asked heatedly, a frown knotting his brows together.

"Maker's breath!" Neri cried in exasperation. "I used a blood  _spell_ ," she hissed to nobody in particular before turning to Anders. "I never made a deal with a demon. You  _know_  me, Anders. I didn't turn to blood magic before… I would never now, no matter how terrible things became." Anders frowned at her in confusion.

"How did you learn a blood spell?" Maxime asked. He had never heard of learning it from anything but a demon or a blood mage.

"We met an old Warden…" Neri said sheepishly, peeking up at Arietta through her thick lashes.

Arietta gasped. "I knew you weren't looking at griffon tomes!"

Neri smiled coyly. "Well, I  _was_ , but before that I learnt a few spells. They harness the taint in our blood, and they're particularly effective against darkspawn.  _That's_  how I killed them," she explained, glaring at Olivia.

"How does this old Warden know such things? Who is he?" Rafael asked suspiciously.

"His name is Avernus. He's a very old, Grey Warden blood mage," Arietta said with a sigh, clearly not too thrilled to have ever met him.

"He's trying to find a cure for us all; he's not all bad," Neri explained, giving Arietta a pointed look.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Arietta asked, unable to hide the hurt in her voice.

"Oh Ari, you'd never have approved… After the Deep Roads, after my near-death experience, I wanted to do everything to survive, to make sure  _everyone_  survived. It has its uses; the blood magic stunned the Archdemon long enough for me to kill it. I don't like using it, I feel sick just thinking about it, but we'd all be dead if I hadn't."

Everyone was silent a moment. If nobody else was going to say anything, Maxime would. "Thank you." He stepped forward and hugged her, wincing slightly from his sore stomach.

He pulled back, and Neri opened and closed her mouth a few times, and then nodded and smiled weakly.

Rafael and Olivia were still brooding, but everyone else seemed to have accepted what Neri had said. They were still disturbed by her  _capabilities_ ; it didn't help that the air was rank with the smell of the twisted, bloody remains of the darkspawn. They all stood there a little awkwardly, waiting to see if anyone else had anything to add.

Arietta sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Okay, those who aren't injured, clear out these corpses," sheordered. "Tomorrow, we leave for Amaranthine."

Rafael leaned closer to Maxime. "I will see you later tonight," he whispered in his ear, as his lips brushed his cheek.

Maxime took a shaky breath and nodded before following Varel, Arietta, Neri and the recruits out of the main hall in search of somewhere a bit cleaner to do their Joining. They ended up in the main hall; the table was overturned, and there were puddles of blood on the ground, but at least it wasn't covered in darkspawn gore.

"Good luck, Mhairi," Maxime said to the young woman.

She smiled up at him. "Thank you, Max." She gave him a small smile. "Be truthful, how bad does it taste?"

He snorted. "Remember that drink we gave you on your first night here?"

She crinkled her nose. "The one with all of that  _stuff_  in it?"

"Yes."

"Of course I remember it; I was throwing up the whole of the next day."

He chuckled. "This is  _a lot_  worse."

Her face dropped. "How is that possible?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "It just is."

She sighed. "If that's what it takes to be a Warden, then I will gladly do it," she said resolutely.

"You'll be a great Warden," he told her as he squeezed her shoulder, and she nodded firmly.

Varel came back in with the Chalice, and Oghren half-grunted, half-laughed. "That's it? The famed chalice? Bah, it's tiny!"

Arietta shook her head, a small smile on her lips. "Oghren, trust me, you do  _not_  want to drink much of it."

"Says you, woman! I'll have the dwarf sized one!"

"So you want us to get you a smaller size?" Neri joked.

"Bah! I can drink more than these two combined," he grumbled, as he waggled a finger at Mhairi and Anders.

Neri rolled her eyes. "You'll have a sip. It's more than enough."

"Shall we begin then?" Varel asked.

Neri stood on her tiptoes and kissed Anders on the cheek. "Die, and I will haunt you in the Fade," she growled.

The blond mage gave her a crooked smile. "Maybe I should put myself in peril more often if it gets a kiss from you."

Neri cupped his face, looking at him seriously. "I mean it. Don't die."

He smiled sadly down at her. "I'll try not to."

Maxime stood off to the side as the recruits lined up, and Neri came to stand with him. The little elf was biting on her lips, and her hands were shaking at her side, so he threaded his fingers through hers and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. She looked up at him with a grateful smile before returning to watch the Joining. They all spoke the words that have been spoken since the first Wardens walked Thedas:

Join us brothers and sisters.

Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant.

Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn.

And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten.

And that one day we shall join you.

Neri leaned her head against Maxime's arm as she sniffed; he looked down at her to see tears smearing her dirty cheeks. He kissed the top of her head. "They'll be okay," he whispered. She squeezed his hand tighter in response.

He always thought it was cruel how they made you stand in a line for the Joining; should a fellow recruit die, you had to stand and watch, knowing that you could be next. It was horrible.

Varel stepped forward and handed Oghren the chalice; the dwarf grinned toothily and then took a long swig from it. Oghren belched and then his eyes whitened and he fell to the ground; a moment later he was snoring loudly. Maxime shook his head incredulously, and Neri and the Commander shared a look that seemed to suggest that neither of them expected anything less from the dwarf.

Mhairi was up next; she stepped forward with her head held high and accepted the goblet. Maxime liked the determined young warrior. She was strong willed, opinionated, but kind and so full of wonder. Maxime had watched her quiz Neri while the pyres were being built; the poor elf had barely been able to keep her eyes open, let alone answer her questions. Mhairi took a sip from the goblet, her nose crinkling in that adorable way that it always did. But then a ghastly rasp broke past her lips and her hands rose to claw at her neck. Maxime stepped forward as if to save her but she fell to the ground, dead.

 _No_. He hung his head, his lips trembling.  _When will this end?_

Neri nuzzled against his arm, trying to offer him some comfort, and he took a shaky breath. Anders stared at the body on the ground, eyes widening in fear as Varel covered Mhairi up with a shawl. Arietta stood tall and firm, a grim expression marring her pretty highborn features, but her blue eyes were teary. It was one more death to add to the day's losses.

Maxime still couldn't believe so many of his brothers and sisters were dead… they were his  _family,_  and they were simply  _gone_. Their lives had been snuffed out so quickly, too quickly. He was reminded of the old saying:  _a bright flame burns the quickest._  And they had been that, bright flames, all of them. They were so full of life, so good. They fought the fight few others did, and their fires burned in the darkest recesses of the Deep Roads, fighting a never ending, unwinnable battle against the darkspawn. It wasn't fair that they had died so suddenly, taken by surprise when they should have been  _safe._  It was bad enough that the Joining halved their life expectancies, but his family had been taken far too soon. He had always assumed he would have twenty years with Rafael… twenty years to treasure him and love him before he went on his Calling leaving Max alone. But the day's events had made him fear that he wouldn't even get that.

_Twenty years isn't enough time to cherish him; please, Maker, don't take him any sooner._

Arietta's emotionless reserve began to crack as Varel handed Anders the chalice; the blond mage looked panicked as he stared down at the goblet in his hands. Maxime's hand was constricted by Neri's iron grip, and he could tell the elf was holding her breath. Anders looked over to her with a sad smile on his face, one of regret and things left unsaid, and then he lifted the chalice to his lips. He fell to the ground, and they all waited in absolute silence for him to breathe again. It seemed to drag on for minutes, but finally his chest rose, and Neri let out a strangled cry of elation as she ran to his side.

Everyone else seemed to sigh in relief, smiling slightly, grateful that there would be no more deaths this day. Maxime thanked the Maker that Anders had survived; he liked the blond mage, and he also liked Neri. He did not want to see her in mourning, nor did he want their issues to go unresolved. He hoped that after everything had happened, the two of them would work things out; near-death experiences tended to make fights and arguments seem suddenly insignificant.

Anders woke up first, smiling brightly up at Neri who was running her hands through his hair. She kissed him on the forehead and he grinned. "I definitely need to be put in peril more often."

She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Don't you dare. You scared the shit out of me."

His grin softened and then Oghren grunted as he sat up. He glanced at Neri and Anders and snorted. "Why didn't I get to wake up in a woman's arms?"

Neri cocked an eyebrow in his direction. "Perhaps because you  _left_  your woman, Oghren."

"Bah! You ain't gonna drop that, are yah?" Neri shook her head in response and Oghren huffed.

"Here," Arietta said, "have a hand instead." She offered her hand to the dwarf, smiling softly.

"Heh, I suppose that'll have to do," Oghren grunted, as he accepted her hand and was hauled to his feet.

Neri helped Anders up, but remained on his arm, refusing to let go of him. Not that Anders seemed to mind at all.

Maxime smiled. "Well done both of you. Welcome to the Grey Wardens." He glanced sadly down at Mhairi.  _Maker guide you._

"We'll need another pyre for Mhairi," Arietta said sadly.

"I'll make sure it is done, Commander," Varel said softy before leaving the room.

"The rest of you should head to bed," Arietta suggested, rubbing her temples.

"Heh, I'm hungry, we got anything to eat?" Oghren groused.

"Well, the kitchen is over there," Neri pointed at the door, "I'm sure that's not too far away for your stumpy little legs, dwarf."

"Hm, not sure, Warden, I might need you to help me reach the good stuff again."

"And leave my darling mage, perish the thought," she responded dramatically.

"Actually, I'm hungry too," Anders spoke up just as his stomach growled. Neri laughed and they headed to the kitchens together.

Arietta stared down at Mhairi. "She was so young and hopeful."

Maxime moved to stand next to her. "She was. She wanted to be a Warden more than anything. She had this book,  _Heroes through the Ages,_ that she wanted you and Neri to sign."

"I never got the chance to. I don't think Neri did either," Arietta shook her head. "Poor girl, I had hoped…" She sniffed. "She was  _nice_."

Maxime smiled sadly at her. "It's not fair, is it?"

"No, it isn't. Go get some rest, Maxime, you look exhausted."

He chuckled. "I'm always this pale, bed does sound good though." He dipped his head at her. "Good night, Commander."

It took him longer than usual to climb the stairs, and he was visibly sweating by the time he reached his room. He hissed sharply, wincing in pain as he lifted his robes over his head. There was a tiny pink scar across the left side of his belly; all that pain and blood, for what now looked little more than a paper cut. Anders certainly did good work – with those deft, long fingers… Maxime sighed. Mages always attracted other mages; it was a fact. The buzz of the Fade between two mages, the crackle of their magic, it was electrifying and addicting. He did miss being surrounded by other mages; he missed the excitement of it and the thrill of having a quick romp in the dark before the Templars noticed they were missing. But as much as he missed that, none of it compared to love. Waking up with another man, making love to another man… It could be whatever they wanted it to be; hot and needy, desperate and rough, loving and tender.

As tired as Maxime was, he felt utterly filthy, so decided to wash himself down. His beard was crusty with dried blood and gore, his skin was covered in a sheen of dried sweat, and his hair felt sticky and greasy instead of soft and fluffy like he was used to. He hopped in the bath and began washing his body; it was only as he went to wash his hair that he touched the little bottle of Ella's hair cream, and tears welled in his eyes once more. His hands clenched around the little bottle and he sighed. Was it stupid that he didn't want to use the cinnamon and cedar shampoo? Was that all he would have to remember the little spirit healer by? He tried to think if he had anything else of hers, but his mind came up blank.

He leaned back in the tub, clutching the little bottle still. It was going to be so strange to eat breakfast in the morning – sitting around that long table with so few Wardens, made up of equal parts strangers and friends. How were they supposed to move on from this? Ferelden seemed to be cursed; the Order had been wiped out at Ostagar, and as soon as more Wardens arrived to fill out the ranks, they too were wiped out by yet more darkspawn. How was that fair? He placed Ella's bottle back on the shelf and opted to use a simple coconut cream instead. He finally finished with his bath and flopped into his bed. He knew the demons would whisper to him tonight; he knew he would have darkspawn nightmares and other horrible ones about Rafael being killed, but he was too exhausted to care.

**…**

Soft lips and bristle tickled his chest; he opened an eye to squint at the rogue leaning over him. "Raf," he whispered.

The rogue hummed against him, his hot hands moving over Maxime's lean frame. Maxime responded to the other man's touch almost immediately, and the rogue smiled against his chest. A tongue darted out to lick his collar bone, and Maxime moaned. He wrapped his legs around the rogue, pulling him tight, and Rafael buried his head in Maxime's neck, breathing him in. Max threaded his hands through Rafael's unruly black curls and then pulled him up for a kiss. It was tender and soft at first, and then the rogue bit on his lip, tugging the sensitive flesh, and soon their tongues were intertwined together. He let the other man's tongue delve into his mouth; he needed him close, needed to know he was okay. Rafael's hard body was pressed tight against him, both of their hips moving as their arousal grew, becoming harder and harder to ignore.

He could suddenly taste salt in his mouth; his hand rubbed the rogue's wet cheek and he gasped against Rafael's mouth. He pulled back slightly and stared up at those watery grey eyes.

"I'm okay," Maxime promised, cupping Rafael's cheek.

Rafael squeezed his eyes shut, and a tear fell on Maxime's neck. "I nearly lost you," he rasped.

"I'm here." Maxime pulled Rafael down into a clumsy kiss, pouring all of his love and need into it. His hands found the rogue's hair again, as they always did; he loved his hair, he loved his eyes, his angular jawline, his deep voice, the little scar that ran through his eyebrow and down his cheek, the multiple scars that marred his body, the tattoo on his shoulder, the boot shaped birthmark on his ass…

He pulled away from the kiss and took a deep breath. "I- I love you," he said shakily. "I love you," he repeated more firmly.

Rafael stared at him for a moment, and his lip twitched into a smile before he took him with another kiss. Maxime moaned loudly, opening his mouth to the rogue. He didn't need to hear him say the words; he knew he felt the same.


	23. Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ElyssaCousland, you rock!

She scrubbed at her arm once more, desperate to feel _clean_. The now-cold water of the tub sloshed around her tired body, rocking back and forth to spill over the side a little from her frantic movements. She hadn't slept much last night despite being exhausted. She had been haunted by nightmares, and not just darkspawn ones either.

She stared down at the ugly raw scar along the length of her arm, running her finger along the raised edge, and then turned her hand over to stare at the two little pink scars across her palm.

_Blood magic._

It didn't heal like other injuries; there would always be a scar, a mark of shame and desperation. A permanent reminder of the horrors she had faced and inflicted. It was always so brutal, so  _gruesome_. The assassin, Deon, had died choking on his own blood; the darkspawn alpha had exploded in a fountain of gore; and the ogre… the ogre had died in a cocoon of blood.

Every time she thought back to the fight, she tried to run through all the possibilities, all the scenarios. She needed to know, she needed to be  _sure_  that there wasn't another way, something she missed, something they could have done instead. She couldn't think of anything, but was that denial? How could she be sure? She had seen the darkspawn's plans, she  _knew_  where the shrieks would go, she  _knew_  how many darkspawn awaited them, she  _knew_  their attack formations; she could  _feel_ it all. There was no other option. She was certain.

But blood magic was powerful and so  _easy_ … it disgusted her that she needed to use it again, especially after Deon's brutal death, but there was something else too… that power felt  _good_. And that thought chilled her to the bone.

That's how blood magic worked; once you used it the first time, and felt the power in it, you used it again and again, until your body was marred with scars, and you were an addict. That's when you went to the demons, begging for more power, and they obliged, of course; they were patient, there was no sense of time in the Fade. They waited for your mind to be entirely focused on one thing: power, desire, rage, or gluttony, and then they possessed you.

_But I'm not a blood mage, am I?_

She didn't learn it from a demon, it was just a  _few_  spells, and it used the taint. She would never use  _other_  people's blood, their life source… It was okay if she just used her own blood, wasn't it?

But she could feel the taint in the other Wardens… all of their taints felt different. Arietta's was a steady drum beat, Rafael's was prickly, Maxime's felt more like music, and Anders' was a gentle popping sound, like bubbles bursting. She could use it to identify who was where; she could even tell if they were upset, angry, tired or injured based on how frantic or loud the blood pumping around their body felt.

She was so in tune with the taint now, she could sense it travelling through her fellow Wardens' bodies. How easy would it be to simply reach in and pull the blood from their veins? Use them to fuel her spells?

She shuddered. She would  _never_  do that.

 _What if Arietta was dying, or Zevran, or Anders?_  her subconscious supplied, unhelpfully.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

_No, I wouldn't… It's_ _**wrong** _ _._

But how far was she willing to go to protect them? Tamsin and Ella had been fighting for their lives as Neri rushed past them. She could have saved them, but she chose not to; Maxime was injured, she could feel the blood leaving his body, and Anders had been on a tour with him. He was all she could think about, all she could focus on; nothing else mattered to her. She had done it again with her barrier. Lenny lay dying at her feet, but she ignored him. She told herself, told Olivia, it was to save them all, but it wasn't. It was for Anders. It was  _always_  for Anders.

She loved him. She always had and always would. But she loved Zev too. And her heart  _ached_  because of it. She missed her Antivan lover, his voice, his eyes, the feel of his body over her, the feel of his lips on her… It had been easy to forget about Anders during the Blight with Zev to keep her company, to keep her distracted. But now Zev was gone and Anders was back, and she found herself getting  _very_  distracted by the healer. It was worse because of her new life expectancy. She desperately needed someone,  _anyone_  just to hold her. She felt so  _lost_.

But was it fair to let them in? If she went back to Anders, or even waited for Zev's return, was it fair to them? She was  _dying_ , albeit slowly. They would have a measly fifteen years with her, at most. It seemed almost cruel to let them in, only for them to have to watch her die not long after. She couldn't do that to Zev… he deserved the chance to have a family, to have a life. He deserved to be happy and free and not tied down with a sickly, weak Warden. Anders though, he was a Warden now and he was  _here_  at the Keep, just a few rooms over. It would be so easy to let him in; they had been best friends once, inseparable: the Terrible Two. She needed a friend, but it didn't need to be more, it wasn't  _fair_  to ask for more. She could resist his charms, his endless flirting and his good looks, and stay his friend, couldn't she?

Neri sighed. Of course she couldn't; it only took a lopsided smile or a delicate touch and she was putty in his hands. It had taken every  _ounce_  of her willpower to push him away in her office the day before. She would have to keep her distance; she would do it for  _him_. He didn't need to watch her suffer; she didn't want him to have to see that. He too deserved happiness. He could adopt some children with a pretty human wife and have half a dozen pet cats; there was no reason he couldn't do so once the immediate darkspawn threat was dealt with. He could be a part-time Warden; Neri could arrange that for him, as she was Arietta's second.

She hauled herself out of the tub and forced herself to dress. She only put on leathers, a shirt, and her knee high boots; she was being left at the Keep while most of the others went to Amaranthine, so didn't need to be in her restrictive armour. She did put both of her daggers on her belt, though; nobody would be walking around the Keep unarmed any longer. She scratched Barkspawn behind the ear, and then they climbed down the stairs and walked into the yard together. The air was thick with smoke: the potent smell of burning darkspawn. The pyres had been burning most of the night, but were still smouldering even now. There were a lot of soldiers in the yard, rushing around, still clearing up the mess the darkspawn had made of their Keep.

A familiar laugh drifted across the yard, and she grinned, recognising the feel of his taint too.

"Alistair!" Neri jogged over to him, and her hound bounded up to him too, jumping around excitedly.

He was standing with Arietta,  _naturally_ , and had a full complement of Templars and soldiers with him.

His face cracked into a grin too. "I was wondering when you'd finally wake up, lazy bones."

"Nobody told me you were here!" She looked around. "I guess all of our messengers died," she added darkly.

He scowled. "Yes," he replied sadly as he stroked Barkspawn. "I've been briefed on the details. I'm glad at least a handful of you survived, though."

"How are you feeling this morning, Neri?" Arietta asked. She was wearing her blue and silver Warden Commander's armour. Her long black boots stopped below her knees and her thighs were on show above them. She looked spectacular, despite the horrors of the previous day.

"I'm okay," Neri lied, smiling sweetly.

Arietta narrowed her azure eyes at her; the noble could always tell when she was lying.

"That's the man! That's the apostate!" one of the Templars suddenly cried.

Neri didn't need to turn to see who the Templar was looking at; she could feel the gentle pop of Anders' taint, and it wasn't like there were any other apostates at the Keep.

She sighed; Anders had the worst possible timing.

"He is a Grey Warden now," Arietta said firmly, folding her arms.

"What!? He burned down a house, stole a horse; no doubt he killed the Templars we sent after him too!" the Templar shouted.

"Actually, _I_  killed them," Neri said, glaring at the Templar.

" _Murderer_!" The Templar moved to draw her sword, but Barkspawn growled at her and she thought better of it.

"They wouldn't leave, then they drew their weapons and tried to take a Warden by force, and if you continue down this same path you'll join them as a blood stain on that wall there," Neri growled.

"How  **dare**  you!" the Templar spat.

"Making friends, as always?" Anders smirked as he came to a stop at her side.

Neri glared at him. "Not helping!" she hissed.

The Templar was absolutely fuming. "This is unacceptable! You Wardens have gone too far: removing the Chantry's oversight, and now this!"

Alistair levelled the Templar with a steely gaze. "He has been conscripted; there's nothing more to say about this," he said in a tone that brokered no further discussion on the matter.

The Templar grumbled, but kept her mouth shut.

_That will not be the last we hear from her._

Alistair explained that he couldn't stay long; he was heading to the Circle to check on plans for the new Tower. Kinloch Hold was no longer suitable, due to Uldred's revolt leaving the veil very thin there.

"Oh, there was one other thing," Alistair chirped. "While I was at Highever, Fergus proposed to Lacie Sabatine."

" _What_!?" Arietta choked, her eyes almost popping out of her head.

"She's the Orlesian woman who was dancing with Fergus half the night at our wedding, love. She joined us for breakfast the morning–"

"I know who she is!" Arietta squawked. "I can't believe he proposed!"

Neri chuckled. "Do you like Lacie?" She remembered the Orlesian from the breakfast; she seemed nice, much nicer than her stuck up friend had been.

"I barely know her;  _he_ barely knows her," Arietta said, running a hand through her chestnut locks.

Neri snorted and looked back at Alistair. "So, when's the wedding?"

"In a few months, once all these darkspawn are cleared out. He said the reception might be ruined if there are darkspawn dancing amongst the guests," Alistair glibly said, smiling with his trademark goofy grin.

Arietta groaned and rubbed her temples.

"Will there be cake?" Anders asked. "I've never been to a wedding."

"We should get Leliana to bake one. She makes the best puddings," Neri said wistfully, and Barkspawn barked in agreement.

"Mmmm," Alistair also agreed, licking his lips. He shook his head. "Alright, we need to head off." Alistair kissed Arietta on the lips. "I love you."

"I love you too. Be safe," she said, hugging him close.

"You too. I am sorry I can't be of more help."

"It's okay. Do try not to piss off the mages dear, or the Chantry or the Templars…"

"Ah, I see you trust me entirely with this situation." He chuckled.

Arietta grinned. "I trust you plenty, but you do have a knack for upsetting them." She laughed softly.

"Call it a talent," he said smugly.

Neri hugged him goodbye. And then the king turned and left, marching out of the yard with his small army. Neri glanced at Arietta, who had tears in her eyes, and decided to distract her with talk of the wedding instead. Anders had thankfully wandered off, leaving the two of them alone.

"You think it's too soon, don't you?"

Arietta nodded, a slight frown marring her features. "It's only been a year and a half since…" She sighed. "I hope he's okay."

"People deal with loss in different ways, Ari. Sometimes the easiest way to get over something is to replace it with something else."

"Oriana is not like an old boot that you can just replace," Arietta snapped.

"I didn't mean –" She shook her head. "Look, maybe he's just lonely, and maybe Lacie makes him happy. Don't you want to see him happy?"

Arietta's shoulders sagged. "Of course I do. I just worry."

"Well you shouldn't, I think he knows what he's doing. He might soon have an heir to Highever, and marrying Lacie will strengthen our relationship with Orlais. It sounds like a good marriage to me."

Arietta started to smirk. "Careful, that was almost sage advice." Neri rolled her eyes and Arietta's smirk widened. "You look better today, by the way. Less pale."

"Oh, charming," Neri laughed.

Arietta's smirk softened. "You lied earlier. How are you really feeling?"

She sighed heavily, her whole body deflating. "Tired. I just feel tired," she admitted.

Arietta squeezed her shoulder. "I fear things are going to be tiring for some time yet, petal. Rest up today. I'll be back from Amaranthine soon, Maker willing."

Neri snorted, shaking her head slightly. "You realise you've just doomed yourself to be held up at least a week."

Arietta laughed, and wandered off to speak with Rafael by the gate.

"Are you sure you'll be okay here?" Anders suddenly asked from her side, making her jump slightly.

She glared at him and then her eyes settled on his now-slightly-unbuttoned shirt. She had to stifle a moan at the smattering of blond hair visible through his open shirt. The bastard had also untied his hair, so his now-clean golden locks fell around his face and shoulders, just begging to have fingers run through them.

 _Damn him_. He was not going to make it easy for her to keep a professional relationship with him.

She clenched her jaw and started to walk back toward the Keep's entrance. "I'll be fine. How are you feeling, strong enough for the trip?"

"Should be. If I collapse, I'm sure you'll come and rescue me." He smirked.

She rolled her eyes. "What about nightmares, headaches or hunger pangs?"

"No nightmares. I did have a very steamy dream though, want to hear it?" She could tell he was waggling his eyebrows.

It took all of her willpower to say no.

"Hmm. You were completely naked," he supplied, telling her anyway, "and I pushed you into that cold stone wall in your office; you let out the  _sweetest_  of gasps." He moved closer to her. "My mouth closed around your nipple, while my hands sent sparks flying across your skin," he whispered.

She moaned and stopped walking as he came to stand in front of her, those amber eyes of his darkening. Her breath became ragged and she tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

"Then my hand moved lower, pushing through your folds, to your sweet wet cunt," he continued huskily, his voice deep and smooth, his lips inches from her own. "I pushed my fingers into your core, sending more sparks flying through you."

Her knees went weak, and he snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her into him. She was breathless, pressed tight against his lean frame as she stared up into his dark eyes.

"I pushed you onto that big maple desk of yours and scattered its contents across the floor," he said into her ear, his tongue darting out to lick the delicate point, making her tremble in his arms as a groan passed her lips. She could picture him doing that to her, but the image was distorted, corrupted by another quite recent experience under similar circumstances.

"' _Fuck me_ ' you whispered, and I thrust into you," Anders said in a low purr.

She imagined him fucking her, his lean body over her, with his blond hair rocking with each thrust. But blue eyes stared down at her, smug and uncaring, instead of warm amber ones full of life. She clutched Anders' shirt tightly as she tried to push the images out of her head.

"Do you remember what it feels like to have me buried deep inside of you?" he whispered.

She moaned, but still couldn't get the image of Deon out of her head. Templar  _bastard_. Her breath hitched as she remembered the smite, and the smell of the blood magic she had used on him, and the sight of his mangled corpse.

Anders moved to kiss her.

She pulled back sharply, untangling herself from him. "Are you done?" she snapped.

He gawked at her.

She forced herself to walk away, clicking her fingers for Barkspawn to follow her, before she kissed that damn mage.

Neri found Maxime and Lenny in the dining hall. Everything was back in their correct positions, but the room wasn't quite right; the tables were slightly too far to the left, the tapestries on the walls were crooked, the rugs were gone, there were arrow holes in the kitchen door, and she could still see blood in the cracks in the stone floor. She ignored it all and slid in next to Maxime.

"How are you both feeling?" she asked them as she poured herself a glass of water.

Maxime grinned. " _Much_  better."

Neri snorted. "Well  _somebody_  got laid last night," she teased, and Maxime snickered. She snaked her arm through his. "He clearly cares about you."

Maxime nodded. "I told him," he gushed, grinning broadly.

Neri's face lit up. "You did?"

"Yeah," he hummed wistfully. She hugged him.  _I wish I could do the same._

She glanced at Lenny who was eating a slice of toast. "Are you alright, Lenny?"

He looked up briefly and nodded.

She ran a hand through her hair. "I wanted to apologise, for not dropping the barrier for you, I–"

"It's n-not necessary," he said quietly, still munching on his toast.

"You nearly  _died_ ," she whispered.

He managed to look her in the eye. "You k-kept Olivia safe," he said firmly. "Thank y-you."

Neri smiled, but couldn't help the guilt that flared through her. "You were incredible, by the way," she said to him.

He glanced up at her and frowned.

"You killed at least twenty of those bastards and that ogre, all by yourself. If you escaped from in here, that would have been quite a trek to the main hall. I'm seriously impressed."

His cheeks blushed. "Thank you."

Maxime chewed his lip and then turned to face her a bit better. "I'm curious… how does the blood spell work, exactly? Could you teach it to others? Can non-mages learn it too? What does it feel like? Does it always leave a scar?" he rambled.

Neri shrugged as she sighed. "The spell I used is a force mage only thing, I think. But Avernus said there were other spells: coating blades in blood, or spraying blood into a foe's face to stun them; I've used that before, on the Archdemon. None of it is very pleasant." She took a breath. "It feels… I don't know, powerful, and it's scary how easy it is. It feels almost euphoric as the blood pours out of you; your whole body tingles and ebbs, but there's a tipping point. Go too far, and it suddenly feels like death itself has settled over you." She swallowed. "And yes, it always scars." She showed the other thin lines on her palm.

"How did you get them?"

She chewed on her lip. "The Archdemon fight," she half-lied. She gulped down her glass of water. "So, do we reckon they'll make it back by tonight?"

"I h-hope so," Lenny said with a sigh.

"Me too," Maxime admitted. He looked at her when she didn't say anything. "You and Anders still not made up?"

She glared at him. "He escaped from the Circle Tower for the  _seventh_  time by climbing down a rope made of bed sheets. He burned a house down,  _borrowed_  a horse, and I had to kill two Templars because of him. The Chantry and Templars are pissed at Arietta and Alistair and the Grey Wardens, we could be at war with them any day now - that's how tense things are at the moment. I also had no choice but to make him a  _Warden_ , which is just not what I wanted for him, at all." She sighed. "He thought I'd just fall into his arms and we'd live happily ever after, but that's not possible, not with the life I lead, with the lives we all lead."

"Not t-true," Lenny said firmly. "Olivia and I are h-happy; we're together d-despite everything. You could be t-too," he encouraged, his light blue eyes locked on hers.

She smiled at him. "You aren't mages, though, and there are other reasons too…" She rubbed her neck. "He is infuriating; he's so glib and nonchalant  _all of the time_. He has the worst timing  _ever_ , and I want to smack that smirk off his damn face! And–"

"You love him," Maxime said.

She groaned and slammed her head onto the table, "Yes."


	24. Earning Respect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lys, thank you as always, hun! And thanks for those who comment and leave kudos; it is always welcome and appreciated!

The dirt roads were slippery underfoot with the constant drizzle wetting the ground, and them. Olivia pulled her hood a little lower and kept her head down. It was good to be out of the Keep, away from the smell of burning darkspawn and from the constant reminders of all they had just lost. Out here, she could almost believe that they were all still alive, all still back at the Keep waiting for her return. She knew that was a stupid thought, but it helped to keep her feet moving, helped to keep her focused. The alternative meant thinking about all of the death, all of the loss; she couldn't afford to break down, so she kept busy, kept herself moving. The road so far had been quiet; even the bandits and thugs that usually plagued these parts appeared to have been chased inside by the dreary weather. The group she was travelling with was also quiet and sullen; everyone seemed to be lost in their thoughts or their grief. Rafael and Coline walked silently side-by-side, ignoring everyone else, and the Commander was well in front, her strides determined and set on reaching Amaranthine before midday. Behind Olivia were the two new recruits: the mage, Anders, and the dwarf, Oghren. They were the only two conversing, the only two  _not_  in a sour mood.

"…The robes make quick trysts in the corner easier. No laces or buttons. You're done before the Templars catch on."

"Really?"

"Just ask Neri."

"Heh, so you and the Warden…?"

"Mmm. All of the time."

Oghren snickered. "You know, mage, I think she talked about you during the Blight."

"She did?" Anders' tone sounded hopeful.

"Hmm, yeah, think so."

"Well, what did she say?"

"Eh? Oh, that you have a birthmark shaped like a smiley face on your –"

"Ah! That's quite enough," Olivia snapped, shooting them both glares over her shoulder before she hurried on ahead to catch up with the Commander.

Arietta gave her a small smile as she fell into stride with her, which Olivia returned. "How do you like being queen so far, then?" she asked.

Arietta chuckled. "It's hard work; there is always someone or something demanding my time and attention, but Alistair and I have had a lot of help from our friends so it hasn't been  _too_  awful," she joked. "I like  _seeing_  the results of decisions we've made. During the Blight we travelled across the entire country, but rarely saw the good we had done, until the Landsmeet, that is. But as queen I see it every day; most of Denerim has been rebuilt now, we have new trade alliances with the Free Marches, relationships with Amaranthine, Highever and Gwaren have never been stronger, and I think I can tentatively add Orlais to that list now as my brother has decided to marry a wealthy Orlesian."

"Really? So we will have an Orlesian Teyrna?"

"It certainly seems that way." Arietta smiled, shaking her head slightly. "I only found out this morning that my brother is remarrying. It hasn't quite sunk in yet."

"I imagine such a wedding will be quite a big event; not quite as big as your own, but still quite a spectacle," Olivia mused.

"Yes, I should think so. Fergus' first wedding was beautiful; we held the ceremony on the cliff, overlooking the harbour. It was actually a sunny day too, very different to the weather we are experiencing at the moment," Arietta giggled.

"I suppose you get used to the rain, eventually? I certainly haven't yet," Olivia laughed quietly.

"Mm. You might get used to it, but you probably still won't enjoy it," Arietta replied good-humouredly.

"I was sorry I missed the king this morning. I was tending to Lenny and –"

"Not to worry," Arietta answered. "He didn't stay long anyway. When he visits next, I'll make sure to introduce him to you all."

Olivia nodded. "I'd like that. You must have quite the bond with him after everything you went through together during the Blight," she said, curious about their relationship.

Arietta smiled. "We do. I imagine it's similar to you and Lenny – he is your husband, correct?"

"Yes. We've been married a few years now."

"Congratulations. I didn't realise Wardens  _could_  marry. I mean, obviously Alistair and I sort of ignored that, but were your commanders okay with it, then?"

Olivia shrugged, smiling impishly. "We did it in secret. If they were bothered, they certainly didn't say anything at the time."

Arietta smiled as she wiped a drop of water from her nose. "It can't be easy when you've got Warden work to do."

"It's not, but we make it work," Olivia said softly. "I'm curious, do you prefer Warden's work to queen's work?"

Arietta looked at the ground. "I joined the Wardens at a very stressful time. The entire Order was wiped out on the evening of my Joining, leaving me, Alistair, and Neri to stop the Blight. Everything after that was an uphill struggle. Being queen has been equally stressful; picking up all the pieces after the Blight has been challenging, but at least there wasn't any  _death_. My first day back as a Warden has ended with the massacre of over half the Order." She sighed, rubbing her temple. "I seem to be doomed to lose people," she said sadly. "I had forgotten how much death there was with the Wardens: the Joining, the darkspawn, and the horrible things we always seem to get dragged into. I'd rather be in the palace with Alistair," she admitted with a quiet laugh.

Olivia smiled sadly at her. "It  _is_  horrible, nothing quite this... terrible has happened to me for a very long time." She was quiet a moment, frowning at the ground as they walked. "I was sorry to hear Mhairi didn't survive the Joining; she was a sweet girl. I guess that brings yesterday's death toll to sixty-three."

"Yes," Arietta said grimly.

"I don't think it's something you ever get used to," Olivia supplied. "And it never stops feeling personal, like you could have done  _more_ , could have prevented it somehow."

Arietta nodded firmly. "That's how I felt during the Blight, and it's how I still feel now. It's hard sometimes to reason with yourself that it  _wasn't_  your fault, that it was just shit luck. It still hurts though, every single time."

Olivia nodded. "Instead of counting sheep to get to sleep last night, I counted how many people I knew that have died. I fell asleep before I reached the end."

Arietta looked at her sympathetically. "At least you slept. I couldn't at all. Being without Alistair, with everything that had happened, and with everything that still needs to be done… my mind was racing."

"I know we have a plan: find Kristoff, find out about this chasm, sort out supplies, make the roads safe… and it helps to know all of that, it gives me something to focus on, but I have to admit, I am struggling to hold it together."

Arietta squeezed her shoulder. "I know. You're all grieving. I am too. I know what it's like to lose the people you call family. But we have work to do. We are Wardens; we keep going, we keep fighting, we keep trying long after everyone else has given up or forgotten. It's what we do, and we  _will_  deal with these darkspawn. They  _will_  pay."

Olivia sniffed and nodded, wiping her tears and the rain from her face. "I was surprised you let Nathaniel Howe go, to be honest. Aren't you worried he'll come back to finish the job?"

"Mm. You were also injured fighting him, weren't you?" Olivia nodded. "He must be quite skilled then," Arietta said with a smile. "I let him go because we had more important things to deal with, and because in the end he only came back to retrieve some of his family's possessions. He's lost a lot, and he doesn't know the full story; he didn't deserve to be locked up or killed for being poorly informed on the situation. If he comes back, however, then he will die. I am hoping he won't, though; he does not seem half-mad like his brother or father were."

"You trust easier than I," Olivia stated.

Arietta glanced at her curiously, an eyebrow slightly arched. "Perhaps. I have found that giving people a certain level of trust can sometimes prove beneficial. I allowed an Antivan Crow to join our ranks during the Blight  _after_  he tried to kill us and that turned out rather well."

Olivia's mouth fell open. " _Why_ would you do that?"

Arietta smiled and shrugged a shoulder. "Neri liked him."

At the mention of the other Warden's name Olivia couldn't help but shudder.

"You don't like her," Arietta concluded.

"I – yes, I don't like her. I just… She refused to drop her barrier for Lenny while he was  _dying_  on the ground. And then she uses blood magic, and not just any sort of blood magic either. I've never seen anything so…so brutal and disgusting in my entire life, and I have seen my entire village murdered by a blood mage before," she said as her lip curled in disgust.

"I was told you joined the Wardens because you stopped a murderer. I did not realise that murderer was a blood mage."

"Well, he was."

"How did you stop him?"

Olivia sighed. "I'd rather not talk about it. Sorry." The shame she felt for not just surviving that day but for bringing that monster to their doorstep was too much to bear, even all of these years later.

Arietta gave her a sad smile and then looked forward again. "As for Neri… she would have done what she thought was best, what she thought was logical. She's always been quite...  _practical_. I have to admit though, the blood magic came as a surprise to me too. I – I can't believe she would do that and  _not_  tell me about it. She keeps a lot from me, I think. Whether she just doesn't like to talk about it, or if she thinks I will disapprove, I don't know. I wish I could get her to open up, but she's as stubborn as a mule sometimes."

Olivia chewed on her lip before speaking. "I could have killed her. I wanted to; Lenny was right there at my feet, but her barrier was between us. She looked so cold and uncaring; I don't understand how anyone could be that heartless."

Arietta sighed. "It may be hard to believe, but Neri is a good person. She  _isn't_ heartless. She probably saved all of your lives by keeping that barrier up until Rafael and Coline arrived to lend aid. And then she  _did_  save you all with her magic."

" _Blood_  magic," Olivia spat. "She claims to hate it, she claims she has only used it a handful of times; you claim to have known nothing about it prior to yesterday, and yet she wielded it so easily, killed with it effortlessly… and she  _smiled_  while doing it. I will never forget the look on her face, standing next to that ogre corpse, covered in blood and filth, the room coloured red and the smile that stretched across her face as she stared at her work."

Arietta visibly gulped.

"To do that to a living creature, darkspawn or no… she can't be right in the head, and I don't trust her, not one bit. I know she's your friend, but I will never be comfortable around someone like her, knowing what she is, what she's  _capable_  of."

"Are you asking to transfer back to Orlais?" Arietta quietly asked.

"I would, if the Order here didn't desperately need me still. Just know, if  _she_  is ever the one dying at  _my_  feet, I will not be giving her a hand up."

Arietta nodded glumly. "Thank you for staying."

The rest of their walk was quieter, Arietta told her a little of her adventures during the Blight, recounting some, honestly, insane sounding tales, until they reached the gates into the city.

"I need to search you," a soldier said.

They all stopped and gawked at him.

"I should think the Queen of Ferelden is above a pat down, Ser," Arietta said, sounding slightly amused.

The soldier stuttered and his cheeks flushed. "I-I have to check everyone for smuggled goods."

Olivia's heart broke for the poor boy. "We are Grey Wardens, mon chéri."

Coline snorted. "Do I look like a fucking smuggler to you?"

"Uhhh..."

"Don't answer that, you imbécile," Coline snarled.

"C'est des conneries!" Rafael complained.*

"What are you doing!?" A blond man ran over and clapped the solider over his head. "This is the Queen of Ferelden, and these are Grey Wardens!" He turned to look at them. "My apologies, your Majesty." He bowed. "Please, you are always welcome in Amaranthine."

Arietta smiled. "Thank you Constable Aidan. Is everything okay here?"

He shook his head. "We are having some problems with smugglers. Please, we will manage, I am sure you are far too busy."

"We are," Rafael curtly interjected.

Arietta gave him a cool look. "Go find Kristoff and see if you can find out about the chasm, then. The rest of us shall help the constable."

"No thank you," Coline drawled. "I'll go with Raf."

"Very well," Arietta replied curtly, turning back to the constable. "Tell me more."

Olivia watched Rafael and Coline disappear into the crowd before focusing on the constable's words. She admired Arietta a great deal for wanting to help out the constable with these smugglers; stopping them would mean that the city's merchants would get more business, instead of being undermined by illegal sales. It would also stop any illegal goods from entering the city. It would no doubt take time to sort out the smugglers ring, though, and Olivia couldn't help but want to get back to the Keep sooner rather than later. She already missed Lenny something awful, and she felt terrible leaving him while he was still recovering.

Arietta turned to face them all once she had spoken with Aiden. "We have work to do, be ready for a fight."

"Always," Oghren grunted, grinning slightly. "Just like old times, eh, Commander?"

Arietta smiled at him. "Yes, but please don't swing your axe unless I say so. You have a bad habit of getting a little  _over eager_  with it."

"Heh! My  _over eagerness_  has saved your pretty porcelain arse more times than I can count!"

"Oh, you can count? Colour me surprised," Anders snarked.

"I'll colour you red in a minute, mage."

"And I'll colour  _you_  orange, you know, the colour of  _fire_."

"Boys," Arietta sighed. "Can we focus, please?"

"I'm almost always focused," Anders bragged, smiling innocently. "Just not always on whatever it is you want of me."

" _Right_ ," Arietta droned. "Let's go find these smugglers then."

**…**

Not half a day later, Arietta, Anders, Oghren and Olivia emerged from the smuggler's den, sweaty, muddy and speckled in blood, but none the worse for wear. If Olivia had admired the Commander in the morning, she truly respected her now; she had gone out of her way to help the constable. Such selflessness was something quite remarkable.

They found Rafael and Coline waiting by the gate, leaning against the wall looking terribly bored and slightly annoyed. Coline noticed them first, and then the two rogues approached them.

"Kristoff went to the Blackmarsh," Rafael said, clearly frustrated. "And here is the map of the chasm the two men found." He handed Arietta it. "I'm going to look for Kristoff." He glanced at Olivia. "Coline doesn't want to come, so, you joining me?"

She wasn't the biggest fan of Kristoff; he, like Neri, was a pragmatist. He always took the ruthless approach in order to get things done quickly, and she didn't want to be without Lenny any longer, but Rafael needed her.

Rafael nodded and turned to the dwarf. "Oghren, care to join us?"

"Heh, sure, why not?" the dwarf huffed out.

"You ought to take Anders too; you might need a mage," Arietta suggested.

"Ah! As  _lovely_  as the Blackmarsh sounds, I think I'd rather stay with the Commander," Anders said.

"Agreed," Rafael said. "It isn't safe this late in the day for you and Coline to walk back to the Keep alone."

Arietta arched an eyebrow at Rafael. "Are you suggesting that Coline and I can't handle ourselves?" There was a smile shaping her lips, despite her serious tone.

Rafael's lip twitched. "A moot point, considering the mage doesn't  _want_  to accompany us to the Blackmarsh."

Arietta chuckled. "You could always drag him along by his hair; apparently he likes that."

"Hey! What in the Void has Neri been telling you all!? And I have a name, you know!" Anders whined.

Rafael snorted. "We will see you all in a few days." He nodded his head. "Commander."

Arietta nodded back. "Be careful," she said, as she smiled at Olivia.

Rafael marched down the road, and Olivia was either forced to keep up with his quick pace or walk beside the belching dwarf. She glanced at Oghren, who was sniffing something on his finger. She chose to catch up with Rafael.


	25. Missing and Missed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Lys, and anyone still reading this here!

Oghren's snores were  _very_  loud. With each inhalation there was a loud grunt, and with each exhale there was a low whistle, and because of it, Rafael couldn't sleep. He turned over again and groaned as a rock jabbed into his hip; he grabbed the offending stone and tossed it into the bush.

"We're as bad as each other," Olivia whispered.

Rafael rolled over and looked at her; she was on watch, sat on a rotting old log.

"What are you talking about?" he asked gruffly, his voice weary even to his own ears.

She poked the fire with a stick and the bright orange embers floated up into the darkness. "Not being able to sleep," she clarified.

"The ground is uncomfortable," he huffed.

"You've slept on far worse," she mused.

"Well, there wasn't a snoring dwarf those times," he said stubbornly.

"It's not the ground or his snores keeping you up, Rafey."

His throat was dry as he swallowed. "I miss him," he rasped.

Even in the darkness he could feel the smile touching her lips. "I know, and I miss Lenny." She stretched, and her back popped in several places. "Won't be too long now, should be at the marsh tomorrow evening."

He let out a sigh. "And then we have to find Kristoff."

"He'll have a camp… there should be tracks," she said hopefully.

"Olivia," he replied soberly.

"You don't know for a fact that something's happened; we can't give up hope," she maintained.

"I'm just being realistic."

"No, you're being a pessimist. We survived the darkspawn ambush, didn't we? Just because we haven't heard from him, doesn't mean he's dead," she insisted.

He stared up at the sky. "He was my friend."

"Is. He  _is_  your friend, Rafael," she said resolutely.

"You have too much faith in people, in this world."

"Not all of the time." She exhaled. "I thought Lenny was lost to me. He very nearly was. You saved his life."

He snorted. "I rather think the healer did, not I."

She shook her head. "If you hadn't come running in, Neri never would have dropped her barrier," she explained bitterly.

Rafael sat up and rubbed his shoulders. "You resent her."

She chewed on her lip. "I wanted to kill her," she clenched her fists. "I wanted to put my sword through her cold black heart."

He squeezed her knee. "If I was in your place, with Maxime crawling across the floor, I probably would have." There was nothing he wouldn't do to save Max,  _nothing._

"I don't trust her," she admitted quietly.

"She did what she had to do; there were too many darkspawn," he reasoned.

"But the blood magic…"

He let out a small sigh. "She isn't using any demons; she won't suddenly turn into an abomination, so she isn't a threat to us. So, I don't really have any problems with it, just as long as she doesn't make a habit of using it."

"You don't know that she isn't a threat to us. The spell she used was powerful; you don't get that powerful without practice."

"You're suggesting she practices on  _living_  people?" he asked incredulously.

"I don't know. I just know somebody willing to do what she did, even to a darkspawn, is not someone I will ever trust."

"She  _saved_  us, Olivia."

"No, she saved herself and Anders. We were just lucky she had her own blood to use as fuel. She said it uses the taint in her blood, right? Well we're all tainted; what's stopping her from using us to fuel such spells? If she was too injured say? How quickly would she turn on us to save herself, or Anders or Arietta?"

"Olivia…"

"You said she did what was necessary, well what if  _that_  becomes necessary? Would she hesitate? Would she refuse to do such a thing because it was  _morally wrong_? Or do you think she would simply do whatever it took?"

Rafael scowled down at the fire.

"Pah, don't mind me. Maybe I do resent her because of Lenny; I know I'm biased against blood mages." Olivia shifted on the log. "Get some sleep, Raf. I'll wake you in a few hours."

"Eh, finally done whining, are you?" the dwarf grunted.

"We were not  _whining_ , Oghren," Olivia sighed.

"The Warden's a damn firecracker, I'll give you that, but she's the sodding slayer of the bleedin' Archdemon; show some damn respect, woman," he grunted.

Rafael smirked as Olivia opened and closed her mouth a few times. "Sorry," she mumbled, her cheeks a bright rosy pink.

With a sigh, Rafael laid back down on his bedroll.

His sleep was fitful at best, his mind was racing; he couldn't stop thinking about the attack, about Neri's blood magic, about Maxime nearly dying, about the night they had spent together afterwards… Maxime had said the words;  _those three little_   _words_  that had made his heart skip a beat. He had kicked himself for not being able to say it back. His throat had constricted and his tongue had felt heavy in his mouth, so he had kissed him instead, hoping that it was enough, for now. Everyone he had ever loved was dead or gone. He knew it was stupid, that they were just words, and they didn't just magically make someone drop dead, but it was scary how soon his lovers had died once he had said that to them in the past. And if someone truly wished harm on Max, they would do so; it wouldn't matter if Rafael had told him the words, because he was openly affectionate with the mage now. It was all out in the open. And it pissed him off to no end that he still couldn't say those damned words even after everything they had been through. It was pathetic.  _Weak_.

He sighed.

But he had always been weak for the mage. Even in the face of rejection, Maxime had persisted; damned pesky man with his thick, luscious hair, plump kissable lips, long fingers and round little ass. For the longest time, Rafael had believed he wasn't worthy of someone as sweet and kind as Maxime; Rafael had done terrible, horrible things to survive his adolescence. There was a darkness inside him, and he worried constantly that he would darken Maxime's pure soul.

Because of Rafael's apprehension, their relationship had been a gradual thing; banter had turned to conversations, and then to dinners together, and those dinners had turned into late nights by the fire. Sometimes they spoke into the early hours; other times they sat in amicable silence as the fire popped and cracked. But no matter how much Rafael believed he wasn't worthy of the mage, Maxime had believed otherwise. Their night together after the attack had been one of sweet loving making, each of them cherishing every second, realising how close to losing one another they had come. Rafael never wanted to experience that kind of panic ever again.

Olivia finally tapped him on the shoulder and he took up watch instead. Despite her reservations about being able to sleep without Lenny, she fell asleep rather quickly. It wasn't surprising though; she must have been exhausted. She had taken a head and knee injury from the archer the morning of the attack, then fought her way through darkspawn and helped hold the main hall with Neri, and then helped clear out the cellar. The next day she had helped Arietta wipe out an entire smuggler's ring in Amaranthine, and since then they had been walking briskly to the marsh. She always worked hard though; she was the bravest and toughest Warden he knew, always trying to make up for her past.

Oghren was snoring away; Rafael didn't have much of an opinion of the dwarf just yet. Rafael preferred to walk in silence, particularly when there was so much on his mind: Maxime, the letter from the First Warden, Neri, Kristoff, the Keep, Arietta… So much was happening and so many things needed to be dealt with. But Oghren kept making jokes or telling stories. The dwarf had asked Rafael why he only kept one dagger on his belt. " _What good is one dagger?"_ he had asked. Rafael had rolled his eyes. It had always been his preferred fighting style; he had learnt to fight with his fists first and foremost on the streets, only later learning to fight with weapons. It just made sense to use both skills together. Oghren liked the idea of punching a darkspawn to death, and had wandered off, chuckling to himself.

Of course, Rafael could use other weapons well enough, but most of his mercenary work required quick assassinations, snapping of necks, or slitting of throats; his dagger was good for that. And the technique stuck; there was nothing more exhilarating than fighting in close quarters, hand-to-hand, and most enemies weren't expecting such an intimate and brutal style of fighting, so it paid off more often than not. It was certainly a lot more precise than the dwarf's gory axe swings; he did  _not_  envy whoever had to clean the basement after they had killed everything down there.

He stared up at the fluffy clouds drifting past the full moon. Rafael had spent many a night under the stars with Kristoff; they all had. Kristoff had been a kind of mentor to Rafael; he trained him and guided him. The old Warden had a wife and family waiting for him, a family he was due to be returning to as soon as this last job was dealt with. If something had happened to him, knowing that he was due home so soon would only make his death more painful.

Too many were dead.

And these talking darkspawn… The thought of such things sent shivers down his spine. Their attack had been coordinated, planned, almost as if an Archdemon was leading them. He groaned slightly; what if Neri had done something, somehow left the Archdemon alive? He still needed to question her on her exact method of survival, which was not a conversation he was looking forward to.

_But what if they're not being led at all? What if they're sentient now?_

What would such creatures want? Would they simply want revenge against Grey Wardens for all the deaths of their brethren? Or would they want to start a civilisation? Whatever they wanted was probably not good, and he would not let them survive this. They made it personal by attacking the Keep. They made it personal by killing so many. They would pay.

Oghren took the final watch, and Rafael returned to rest his eyes. In no time at all though, the sun was peeking through the trees and turning the sky a bright red.

 _Red sky in the morning, Shepherd's warning,_  he thought grimly.

The last leg of their journey was undisturbed; it appeared that nothing lived in these parts. No birds, no bugs, and no sign of any life anywhere. Even the trees were all dead and then the wind died too, leaving them in an eerie silence.

It was as Olivia predicted: they reached the marsh at sunset, and Rafael suddenly wished they had arrived during the day, for it was a gloomy, desolate place. The cold clung to his clothes and the air was rank with death, and yet there were no decaying bodies.

The typical scratching of darkspawn pricked at the periphery of his mind and he sighed, drawing his dagger. "Darkspawn ahead," he warned.

They were not darkspawn though, but blighted wolves. They killed them quickly and moved under a series of trees; the branches were curved over their path, almost like they were moving to strangle them all.

"I don't like this," Olivia whispered.

"Eh, it just needs some colour. Let's paint it red." Oghren grinned.

More blighted wolves attacked; this time they were accompanied by something much larger.

"Are those – are they  _werewolves_?" Olivia said with a gasp.

"Dead, is what they are!" Oghren charged, and swung his axe at the monsters.

Once the beasts were dead they examined them more closely.

Olivia was scowling at the corpses. "The Commander battled werewolves during the Blight. She said the curse was never cured; perhaps these are survivors?"

Rafael's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Or they are the result of some other twisted magic."

They found Kristoff's campsite shortly after. There were no tracks, no signs of life or his things. Rafael stood with his hands on his hips frowning at the old camp fire.

"This does not sit well with me. Where are the tracks, his things? This site has not been used for some time," he said worriedly.

"Maybe he moved on to another? We should check the surrounding area; we'll find him, Raf," Olivia assured him.

They did indeed find him, or his body at least.

Rafael crouched down over his friend's corpse and closed his eyes. "Be at peace, brother," he whispered. "I will find whoever did this to you, and they will die," he vowed.

His mind was suddenly a blur of activity, as darkspawn moved to surround them. The blighted wolves had been a cover-up the entire time.

_These darkspawn are smart, too smart._

"Yes, that is your Grey Warden," a darkspawn spoke. "The Mother told me that if he was lured to this place, and slain, that in time you would come."

Rafael clenched his fists.  _Bastards._

"And the Mother, she was right. The Mother is always right!" The darkspawn cackled.

Rafael drew his dagger. "Did she also tell you how you would die?"

"Will not be dying, I here before you is the First, and I am bringing you a message. The Mother, she is not permitting you to further his plan, whether you think you know this or not. So she is sending you a gift."

He had enough time to think  _what the fuck_  before its fist glowed black and then green, and the world faded from view.


	26. Drinking Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ElyssaCousland, love you to pieces dearest! 
> 
> I will post next week as usual and then this is taking a break for Inquisition in case any of you were wondering! :P

"Never have I ever…" Neri looked at Maxime and grinned roguishly. "Taken it up the bum."

Maxime snorted derisively, shaking his head as he glared at the elf. He reluctantly drank, and Neri winked at him.

Lenny sat in silence pondering his question. "Hmm. Neverr have I evughh–" He hiccupped, and smiled at Coline. "Ever  _hit_  a woman."

Coline let out a small gasp, frowned, and then settled a glare at the elf, before begrudgingly drinking. "You see far too much, elf."

Anders smirked and peered at Neri. "Never have I ever killed a Templar."

"Oh come  _on!_ " she whined. "What about when Uldred took over? We killed some Templars who were possessed…"

"I never killed them;  _I_  focused on healing and avoiding abominations." He smiled smugly.

Neri rolled her eyes and drank deeply.

Nathaniel frowned. "How many Templars have you killed?"

The Archer had joined their ranks the other morning, after apparently ambushing Arietta, Coline and Anders on their journey back to the Keep. Curiously, Arietta had accepted him into the Wardens, and just like that, he was their brother. Whatever bad blood there had been was seemingly forgotten as they drank and shared stories with one another. And it wasn't in Maxime's nature to hold grudges, especially as the arrow in Rafael's side had been relatively harmless. Nathaniel was quite impressive really; the rogue had nearly bested three Wardens, he also had such strong arms…

Neri shrugged at the noble. "Including the two from a few days ago? A fair few." Neri turned to Maxime. "Your turn, Coppertop."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Never have I ever… kissed a girl."

Neri gasped. "How the fuck not, man?"

His shoulders shook with silent laughter. "I've always preferred cock." He stuck his tongue out at the little elf.

And he was seriously missing Rafael now; he'd been gone for  _days_! They still weren't back from the Blackmarsh, and it was late in the evening now, so Maxime would be sleeping in a cold, lonely bed,  _yet again_.

Everyone drank, even Coline and Neri.

Coline leant back on her hands and contemplated her question. "Never have I ever kicked a guy in the nuts, on purpose." Coline raised her eyebrow at Maxime.

Maxime scoffed. "This is just turning into a game of 'I know what you did and I'm going to out you for it'," he grumbled and then drank.

"Ohh, I'm sensing a story there?" Anders asked.

"Joshua," Maxime sighed. "He made Ella cry so I kicked him in the balls."

"He made _you_  cry too, dear." Coline smirked.

"The sun was shining brightly…"

The purple haired woman laughed. "Uh-huh."

"I never liked Joshua," Lenny said quietly, frowning down at the drink in his hands.

"None of us did, Len," Coline admitted on a sigh.

"He was a piece of work," Maxime agreed, fists clenching slightly. "Still, he probably didn't deserve to die, and the others certainly didn't."

"There are so many great tales of the Wardens; I am sorry I didn't get to meet them," Nathaniel said solemnly. "And I'm sorry the ones I did meet, I injured." He looked at Lenny with an apologetic smile.

Lenny's lips curved upward. "S'long as you n-never hurt Olivia again, we're good."

"To the fallen." Neri lifted her glass and drank, and they all did the same.

Nathaniel placed his glass back down on the stone ground and stretched his arms. "My turn?" They all nodded. "Okay then." He looked around their circle and stroked his chin. "Never have I ever kissed an elf."

Neri giggled. "That a hint, Howe?"

Nathaniel glowered at her. "No. I was only following the rules of the game."

"You never took advantage of a lowly servant while you were all high and mighty, Howe?" she sneered at him.

Nathaniel folded his arms and glared at her. "No."

"Alright, grumps," Neri snickered.

Coline, Anders and Neri all drank.

Maxime raised an eyebrow at Coline. "Who?"

"Servants mostly. I, unlike blue-balls here," Coline said, gesturing to Nathaniel.

"I do not have  _blue balls_ ," he growled.

Coline rolled her eyes. "Could have fooled me, you walk around like you have a stick up your arse."

"I do not," he bit out. "You try having everything you care about taken from you, and act like it hasn't affected you."

"That  _has_  happened to me," Coline said, straight-faced, making Nathaniel's eyes widen slightly in surprise. "As I was  _saying_ , I liked the power I had over them. They did whatever I asked, and always called me  _m'lady_." Coline shrugged with a slightly tipsy smile.

"Oh, that's  _charming_ ," Neri drawled, clearly ticked off.

"Oh don't you worry, ma chère they were  _very_ willing. But I can see that you don't have a submissive bone in your body so perhaps you wouldn't understand."

Neri narrowed her eyes at Coline. "You're a control freak, even now, tipsy, you're still sitting with your perfect posture, your clothes perfectly put together…"

Coline scoffed. "You, the  _force_ mage, are going to lecture  _me_  about control? That's brilliant. Oh and don't even get me started on your  _other_  magic."

Neri scowled at her and Coline narrowed her eyes as she smiled smugly.

Anders coughed loudly. "What about you, Neri? Was it Titch, the elf you kissed? I can't imagine you ever kissed any of the  _other_  elves in the Circle…"

"Oh." Her cheeks flushed a little. "No, I never did anything with Titch." She grinned mischievously at Anders. He frowned and looked like he was going to question her further but Neri spoke once more. "Me again! Never have I ever had a  _sixsome_." She waggled her eyebrows at them all.

Maxime snorted. "Is  _that_  a hint?"

Neri glanced at everyone with her big brown eyes. "I fear we have not drunk enough,  _yet_ ," she said playfully. Nobody else drank so Neri had to take a shot.

Lenny cleared his throat and swirled the drink in his hands. "Never have I ever had s-sex… in the Deep Roads." Maxime groaned and drank.

Coline gasped. "Ugh!  _When_!?"

"That time Rafael and I got locked in…"

Her long nose scrunched up in disgust. "Oh,  _gross_!"

Maxime chuckled. "You were gone for an entire  _week_. What did you think we did in that time?"

Coline scoffed, shaking her head. "I don't know… not  _that_!"

"That just doesn't sound… sanitary," Neri said with a laugh.

Maxime gave the elf a lopsided smile and shrugged a shoulder. "It was hot."

"Yes the Deep Roads generally are… OH." Neri grinned. "I bet it was," she chuckled impishly.

It had been at the beginning of Maxime and Rafael's relationship; they'd only messed around a little bit before being dragged into the disgusting tunnels. They'd gone exploring together when they set off an old Dwarven trap door. They had ended up stuck in a dark, hot room for a week while the others in their group went to get explosives from their main camp. So Maxime had slept with Rafael for the first time, sweating, sticky and dirty, deep underground, and it had been perfect.

"Alright, similarly," Anders said. "Never have I ever had sex under the stars," he said with a hint of melancholy in his voice.

"You're missing out." Neri downed the rest of her drink, and then topped it up. Everyone else drank too.

Anders' eyebrows were tied together as he watched Neri drink heavily. "Was it with this elf?"

Maxime was sure Anders sounded jealous.

Neri peered up at him through her thick lashes. "How do you know it wasn't Arietta or Alistair?" She leaned into his ear. "Perhaps we had a threesome?" She lifted an eyebrow at him, waiting for his response.

Anders folded his arms, scowling at her. "You're avoiding the question." She smirked back at him.

"Okaaaay," Maxime interrupted, and then smiled coyly as he thought of an excellent question. "Never have I ever used  _magic_  during sex."

Neri nearly choked, and Anders turned crimson.

"That flamin' dwarf! What did he tell you?" Neri cried, leaning forward heavily until she rebalanced herself.

Maxime let out a hearty laugh. "He's quite the talkative drunk."

She shook her head, smiling in exasperation. "Oghren will pay for that one." Neri sighed and looked back at Maxime quizzically. "Why haven't  _you_  used magic during sex?" She glanced at Anders and ran her eyes up his slender body. "It's delightful," she purred, and Anders couldn't hold back the smirk that touched his lips.

"Hmm. I guess I never really thought to?" he cocked his head to the side. "What spells do you even use?"

A bright white grin crept across Neri's face. "Anders has his electricity thing." She smiled suggestively. "And I… use my force magic in  _inventive_  ways."

Anders let out a short snort. "Wicked, you use your force magic in  _wicked_  ways," he corrected.

Neri leant in close to him. "Do you miss it?" she purred. Anders stared straight ahead trying to keep his cool, but Maxime could see him swallow hard. Neri's fingers glowed, and a wave of magic washed over Anders. The healer shuddered. Neri grinned and removed her hand, and Anders groaned. "Good." She folded her arms. "That's how  _I_ felt when you were in bloody solitary!"

Maxime was getting a headache trying to keep up with Neri's shifting mood. One moment she was cold and icy, the next bitter and snippy, and then straight after she was teasing and flirting. She was so hot and cold, impossible to predict and hard to read, although the alcohol did seem to be loosening her tongue; the only problem with that was all of the comments she might normally hold back were slipping out of her mouth, hence the array of moods she was switching between. This was exactly why he didn't like woman. They could be so catty, so bitchy…they were complicated. They were fine as friends, but nothing more. He felt sorry for the healer at her side, also struggling to keep up with her moods. Anders had been in solitary for a  _year_. He had escaped just for her, had made his way all the way to the Keep to see her. Sure, it was probably a dumb thing to do, but Maxime couldn't help but swoon a little. It was so romantic, or would have been if the Templars hadn't interrupted things so rudely.

Coline cleared her throat. "Never have I ever… had a pet."

Maxime chuckled at the innocence of her statement; it was such a change of pace to the previous round of questions.

"Truly?" Nathaniel asked, his grey eyes watching the archer thoughtfully. He had nice eyes, grey just like Rafael's… Oh, phooey. He missed that curly haired bastard.  _Why did he have to bugger off to some stupid marsh?_

Coline shrugged. "I'm allergic, plus they shit a lot and get hair everywhere."

"I had a cat in the Circle. I miss Mr Wiggums," Anders whined.

Neri chuckled. "You know… I could have sworn I saw a kitten in the yard the other morning."

"Really!?" Anders exclaimed excitedly.

Neri bobbed her head up and down. "Yeah, cute little ginger thing."

"Do  _not_  let that thing inside the Keep. The linens are far too nice for a feline to crawl over," Coline muttered. "And it probably had fleas."

"You like the bed linens, do you? They were my mother's favourites," Nathaniel said softly, a sad timbre to his voice.

"She had excellent taste then." Coline smiled at the other archer.

Nathaniel gave her a small nod in thanks and then took a deep breath. "Never have I ever… been arrested, unless you count being locked up in my own prison as being arrested?"

Maxime shook his head and Neri and Coline drank.

Arietta walked in then, smiling at them all. "Evening," she said cheerily.

"Joining us, Queeny?" Neri cooed.

Arietta rolled her eyes. "I don't think so,  _Slayer_." Neri scrunched up her nose, and Arietta smiled. "I was just checking how you were all doing."

"Not too drunk yet, boss. Although… you  _have_  missed out on some  _interesting_  revelations," Maxime said with a chuckle.

Arietta's pink lips curved as her blue eyes sparkled. "You'll have to fill me in on all the details another time." She let out a small sigh. "Even with Varel at my side, there are piles and piles of paperwork still to get through. How many of you will be joining me tomorrow morning for the noble's meet and greet?" she asked.

"You mean them swearing fealty to you, all thirty seven of them? Yeah, nooo thank you!" Neri hummed.

Arietta sighed. "It would do you good to meet them all, Neri…"

"I have a feeling I'll be sick tomorrow, sorry." The elf went back to her drink.

Arietta shook her head, frowning and then looked at Anders.

"Yeah, I've never been very good with nobles… I think it's the whole 'cursed with magic' thing," he quipped.

"You sure it's not the 'annoying mage' thing?" Neri stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'll go," Maxime offered.

Arietta smiled. "Lenny, I could use you too. If you're up for it?"

"Y-you'd want me there?" the elf nervously replied.

"Of course! You're one of the more experienced Grey Wardens; I figured if any of the nobles had questions about our Order, you'd be the most helpful."

Lenny swallowed hard and nodded.

"Coline, Nathaniel, I could use you there too; your experience with nobles will be invaluable. Nathaniel, yours especially, you knew these nobles personally. If they see us working together, perhaps they won't despise us all so much?"

Coline rolled her eyes and nodded, and Nathaniel gave the Commander a curt nod.

"Excellent; get some sleep. I will see you all tomorrow." She left the room just as swiftly as she had arrived.

Maxime shifted positions; the cold stone was giving him a numb ass. "How about a different game?"

Coline quirked an eyebrow and huffed. "What did you have in mind?"

He grinned. "Truth or dare?"

"Why not?" Neri giggled.

"Okay. Coline, truth or dare?" Maxime asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Truth, I suppose."

"Alright… What is the most embarrassing outfit you ever had to wear?"

Coline chewed on her lip. "Hmm. A neighbour of mine back in Orlais had a painting commissioned. She gave everyone outfits to wear, you just had to sit there and look pretty while the artist sketched. Only problem was, everyone was wearing the most ridiculous outfits, and they were all  _animal_  themed. And I don't mean feathers and fur, I mean real animals. There were birds perching on hats, cats draped around necks, it was absurd. I, of course, couldn't stop sneezing, and my face got all itchy and red. The cats started chasing the birds, and the birds defecated everywhere. We were all cleaning shit out of our hair for weeks." She shivered, and they all chuckled.

Maxime turned his attention to the lanky mage opposite him. "Okay, Anders, truth or dare?"

Anders smiled smugly. "Dare."

Maxime nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, I dare you to –"

"Show Nathaniel your spicy shimmy," Neri interrupted with a wicked grin, and Anders burst out laughing.

Nathaniel clenched his jaw. "Do I even want to ask what that is?"

Neri snorted. "You're about to find out."

Nathaniel sighed and watched the blond mage wearily. The healer got to his feet, and sauntered toward Nathaniel shaking his hips from side to side.

"This is just for you, Nate," Anders whispered seductively.

The mage rocked his hips and grabbed Nathaniel's hair as he thrust his crotch into the rogue's face. Maxime hunched over laughing and tears rolled down his cheeks.

Nathaniel pushed Anders away roughly, and Anders slapped the archer's hand as he gasped. "Oh cheeky, no touching!" he cried out.

Nathaniel groaned. "I didn't, I wasn't – ugh."

Anders chuckled. "You loved it really." He blew a kiss, and then sat back down next to Neri, who was stifling her own laughter.

"Alright,  _elf_ ," Nathaniel growled at Neri. "Truth or dare?"

Neri smiled impishly. "I dare not pick dare, so truth."

Nathaniel craned his head to the side. "Very well. You're the Slayer of the Archdemon, Saviour of Denerim and Ender of the Fifth Blight," he said cynically.

Neri practically gagged at the mention of her stupidly ridiculous title.

"All of the tales make it sound like you've had the most incredible life." Nathaniel continued bitterly. "So, I want to know, what is the worst thing that's ever happened to you?" Neri went pale, and Anders clenched his jaw.

Everyone was silent as they waited for Neri to speak. "Well, where do I begin?" Neri laughed bitterly.

"Neri, you don't have to–" Anders started.

Neri held up a hand to silence him. "Let's see, there was the time Arietta nearly died from a werewolf bite; she was screaming in agony as the burning hot poison coursed through her veins. I had to murder every werewolf in that ruin, and rip the heart out of their wolf leader in order to save her. Then there was this  _really_  fun time in the Deep Roads where Arietta and I got separated from everyone else by a cave in, and were fighting on fumes to reach the others in our group, not knowing if they were dead or alive. I ended up taking a sword to my chest." She pulled down her shirt to show them a think scar on the edge of her breast. "It nearly killed me; I was dying in Arietta's arms, choking on my own blood."

Anders looked like he was going to throw up but Neri continued glibly. "There have been numerous assassination attempts, injuries, arguments; a lot of the people I grew up with were killed during Uldred's revolt." She took a deep breath, by this point Nathaniel had paled considerably, but couldn't interrupt because Neri was ranting away. "But by far, the  _worst_  thing was Ser Albert, in the Tower. He was just  _charming_ ," she said, her voice oozing sarcasm. "He used to threaten to hurt Anders, so, to protect him, I offered myself up to him. Albert took all of his rage out on me,  _frequently_." She smiled sourly.

Maxime held his breath.

"He raped and beat me most nights; he beat me so hard I miscarried and then–"

Nathaniel looked like he was going to be sick. "Neri." He cut her off. "I didn't realise. I apologise."

"You couldn't have known." Neri shrugged a shoulder. She took a deep breath and rose to her feet. "I'm calling it a night."

"Neri…" Anders whispered.

Neri ran her hand through his hair, and then leaned down and kissed his head. "Good night."

"No. I – I never asked you to protect me but you did it anyway. I owe you a reason, an explanation."

"Anders, you don't owe me shit." She headed from the door; Anders leapt to his feet and chased after her. He grabbed her hand, stopping her just on the other side of the doors.

"It was for my mother," he rushed out. Neri cocked her head to the side as he continued, "I… I  _promised_  her I would return to her. It was the last thing I said to her. Every escape… I felt like it got me a little closer to keeping that promise." He sighed. "I wanted to take a ship, get to the Anderfels… keep my promise. That's why I was in Denerim on my last escape, that's why I slept with Isabela…I thought I had more  _time_."

"Oh Anders. You never said…"

"And  _you_  didn't tell me about Albert. I had to hear about it from  _Cullen_."

She looked guilty, not that Maxime was eavesdropping or staring as the two mages spoke…

"You were so happy," she said softly.

"And you were so sad whenever anyone talked about their families, because you didn't have one of your own. You told me I was your brother once, your best friend…I didn't want to tell you that I was escaping so I could be with my  _real_  family. It would have crushed you."

"I would have understood."

"Perhaps." He shrugged.

They stood silently for a moment, Anders still holding her hand, his thumb caressing her skin gently; Neri's fingers were woven tightly between his and there were tears in her eyes.

She whispered something to him and then stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before she wandered down the hall.

Anders stared after her a moment before coming to sit back down.

"She must love you very m-much," Lenny said softly.

Anders looked up at the elf with watery eyes. "She did, once."

"She still does," they all said in unison.


	27. The Mouse In The Lion's Den

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect a two week break now guys due to Inquisition (sorry). Thank you so much to everyone reading, commenting and encouraging me with this story, love you all to pieces. Have a fantastic weekend guys!   
> And thank you Lys for being an absolutely fantastic beta!

Arietta moved to stand at Coline's side. "Having fun?" she asked the Orlesian woman.

The archer snorted derisively. "Hardly." She folded her arms. "They are  _hideous_ ; my eyes are bleeding just from looking at them all."

Arietta sighed. "Well, Ferelden isn't known for its fashion sense…"

"With good reason."

Arietta sighed; she still wasn't sure what to make of the violet haired archer. It had been clear from their first meeting that Coline was once a noble; her rich Orlesian accent was enough of a give-away, and then there was her blatant disgust for anything dirty or unpleasant. Arietta had looked through all of the Warden's files last night, so Arietta knew Coline had poisoned her step-mother, but much else was still unknown to her.

"I assumed that, apart from the glaring fashion differences, you'd get along well with the nobility here."

Coline scoffed. "Well, you thought wrong. I do not like  _these_  nobles. Half of them are spineless fools and the other half–"

"Are pretentious bastards who want me dead?"

One of Coline's eyebrows curved upward. "Perhaps you won't be dead quite as fast as I first thought."

Arietta smiled. "They have no reason to trust me. They may have sworn fealty to me, but they are very much Howe's men, or at least tied to his broken promises."

"It sounds like you are formulating a plan."

"Nathaniel was step one; with him at my side, some may reconsider betraying me."

"You let him go; you could not have known he would come back," Coline said, narrowing her eyes.

"No… but I hoped he would at least appreciate the kindness I showed him." She shrugged. "It paid off."

A small smile ghosted Coline's lips. "And those who would still betray you?"

"I will show them the type of  _Arlessa_  I mean to be."

Coline nodded her head, smiling in full. Arietta returned a nod, and walked away.

She had already gathered from the fake smiles, the sideways looks some of the nobles gave one another, and the tight, tense postures many of them held in her presence, that she was not everybody's favourite person. Many of them were undoubtedly friends with the old Arl, many more had investments tied to him, and with his very untimely death many of them were out of pocket. As she was the one who had killed him and had now, very conveniently, taken his place as ruler of this Arling, it was only natural that they resented, or even hated, her. Being a Warden made matters far worse, as many in Ferelden still did not trust the Order, even after they had stopped the Blight.

She hoped that the skills her parents had taught her, everything she had learnt as queen the past six months, and the dealings she had experienced during the Blight had made her a smart, well-rounded leader. Only time would tell if she could win the nobles here over; she certainly wasn't about to lie down and let them walk all over her though.

Nobles cared about three things: money, land and their business; often those three things were inherently linked. The Randalls owned a copper mine on the coast; bandits had stolen their equipment so they could no longer mine. They wanted Arietta to pay for expenses, claiming that Howe kept the roads safe and the criminals at bay, so of course, it was Arietta's fault that criminals were now back in the arling, and not say because of the  _Blight_  making people desperate enough to steal. The Royce's had lost their barn and a horse to arson; they were expert equestrian breeders and had lost one of their prize mares. Again, they wanted some sort of compensation for their terrible loss. Arietta had firmly told them she wasn't a money lender, and told them she would do her best to catch the arsonists; she also said she'd see if she could find any cheap apprentices in the city that would help rebuild their barn.

Others had been less upfront about their worries or problems, instead opting to invite Arietta over for an afternoon dinner, or brunch some time. Some offers she might accept, eventually; for now, she had told them that the darkspawn were her greatest concern and needed to be dealt with promptly so that recovery in the arling could truly begin. Some of the nobles had turned their noses up at her words, others had been more direct; one man in particular, Jerad Wallgrass had quipped that Grey Wardens didn't appear to be doing very much ' _Wardening_ ', to which Arietta had coolly informed him that she had recently lost thirteen Wardens and they were still recovering themselves.

She wandered over to Maxime's side; he was happily chatting up a smiling brunette, Lady Oswalt.

"Your Majesty." Lady Oswalt curtsied. "We were just discussing improvements that could be made to the Keep. I couldn't help but notice the scorch marks on the walls and floor." She chuckled.

"Yes, one of our dwarves got a little carried away, I think," Arietta said politely.

"I know a wonderful stone worker, not like your dwarf, my friend's more of an interior designer. I can put you in touch?"

Arietta smiled. "That sounds wonderful. Thank you, my lady."

"I would just love to replace this whole room with marble, or perhaps a shiny hardwood, all of this stone is so dreary!" Maxime proposed. "And we should have tapestries along the walls, depicting Grey Wardens of the past; maybe we could even add you, Arietta. You are, after all, the first Warden to be queen of an  _entire_  country." He smirked.

"It will certainly make for an interesting story one day." Arietta smiled sadly. "I just hope it has a happy ending."

"As do we all, your Majesty." Lady Oswalt dipped her head and moved away.

"Don't worry, Commander; Maxime's got your back." The mage grinned.

"Well, you're not very sword-proof, so I'm not sure how reassuring that is, considering the queue of nobles lined up ready to have a stab at me."

He chuckled. "You're right. At least I could fall to the floor dramatically though, might offer enough of a distraction for you to kill the assassins."

"True enough; let's hope it doesn't come to that though, hm?" She smiled softly. "So, I was looking through the files on all of you last night. You went to the Circle later than most. That… can't have been easy."

"Actively asking me about my past, Commander? You haven't been hit on the head have you? You know I could talk for hours about almost anything…"

She chuckled. "I thought it best to get to know my Wardens, just as I am getting to know the nobility here."

"Well, alright then. I was close with my mother, my father less so. They weren't overly wealthy but they weren't poor either. My mother sold homemade carvings, pottery, wicker baskets and the like. My father was a burly man, a big black smith – I, umm, took after my mother," he added coyly, making Arietta smile. "Mother knew even at thirteen that I was gay. She'd always point out cute boys in our town; my father, on the other hand, was always trying to teach me how to 'be a man.' I much preferred painting and carving to hitting metal," he laughed.

"Have you seen them since you left for the White Spire?"

"Once. A few years ago. We were travelling through the city… I dragged Rafael there with me. You should have seen how red he was. It was darling. My mother was  _thrilled_. She could tell I liked Rafael, even though we weren't really together then. My father kept trying to talk about the Warden armour and weapons; he even showed Rafael his forge. Pretty sure he got him to whack it a few times; Raf likes swords but he knows next to nothing about any of that stuff, I think he was worried he would do something wrong and lose my father's approval but it turned out alright, I think." He smirked. "Rafael couldn't  _wait_  to leave, and I paid for it afterwards; he had me cleaning out the stables for a month."

Finally there was a lull in Maxime's rambling, and Arietta was able to step in. "Do you… still remember how to carve?" she asked curiously.

"Sure, I practiced it a lot in the Spire. I made an entire chess set out of beautiful marbled stone once," he boasted proudly.

"Hmm, my darling husband is a fan of statuettes…"

Maxime's face lit up. "I'd love to!"

Arietta laughed and shook her head. "I didn't even ask."

"But you were  _going_  to," he laughed.

She smiled coyly. "Guilty."

Maxime said they could discuss it another time, and they went their separate ways. She liked the bearded mage. He was honest, kind, and she found his endless chatter endearing, although she could see it getting annoying in certain situations. Maxime was a very bubbly man, quite the contrast to his significant other; Rafael was so severe and broody. But they clearly loved each other very much.

She couldn't help but notice that there were a lot of couples among the Wardens, more than she had expected. And she didn't doubt that Neri and Anders would end up back together, eventually, either. Although she knew that Zevran was still very close to Neri's heart. The poor girl was probably struggling to decide what to do, her heart torn between two gorgeous blonds. Arietta briefly wondered if the three of them would end up in some sort of strange arrangement. She shook her head; she would need to speak to Neri properly some time soon. There was so much they needed to discuss.

if she was being honest with herself, all of these couples left her feeling rather lonely. It was more than just an empty bed though, more than the longing she felt for Alistair; she missed simply having someone she could trust completely, someone she knew would protect her and love her no matter what. Here, she felt like a mouse in a lion's den. She was surrounded by unknowns, by enemies and darkness. She should feel confident and powerful; instead she felt lost and weak. The nobles she could handle and she  _would_. The political turmoil, the situation with the Tower and the Chantry, recovering from the Blight, all of that was difficult, but she would cope. But talking darkspawn? That  _terrified_  her. Sentience was not something she ever wanted associated with those monsters. The last thing anybody needed was for the darkspawn to gain intelligence. Arietta had only pulled herself through the Blight with Alistair and Neri at her side, dragging each other along when necessary. Of course, she still had the elf now, but Alistair was her rock; without him she felt exposed.

She moved to stand with Lenny; he stood nervously in the shadows. She had hoped he might be able to act more confidently; as it was, the nobles seemed to be ignoring his very existence.

He was quite a plain looking elf: his mousey brown hair fell flat around his face, his pale blue eyes were often dull, and his prominent chin did nothing to detract from his long face. But he changed entirely in Olivia's company: his stutter was often lessened by her gentle, encouraging touches, his hair seemed bouncier, his eyes brighter, and his smile was enough to stop you in your tracks, as wonderful and rare as it was to see. He looked truly miserable without her at his side; the other Wardens still weren't back yet. Arietta wasn't sure whether they should start to worry now or not; she hoped everything was okay. Perhaps this Kristoff fellow had gone to the Blackmarsh and then somewhere else after, and Rafael had decided to follow? She hated not knowing for sure though.

Arietta smiled at the elf. "Thank you again for attending this little get together."

He nodded and stared back at the ground.

"Have any of the nobles spoken to you?" she asked, as she looked around the room once more.

"N-none."

A smile touched her lips. "Well, thank you for your patience."

He glanced up at her and nodded again.

"Do you have a hangover today, Lenny?"

His mouth twitched slightly. "Perhaps, a little."

She chuckled softly. "How long were you all up last night, exactly?" she mused.

He rubbed his temples. "Too l-late," he admitted quietly.

"I was stuck doing paper work into the early hours as well. I would have preferred to join you all, I think."

"It w-was a good night." He rubbed his hands on his breeches. "But N-Neri, she left early. I-I don't know if anybody has spoken to her since."

Arietta's eyebrow curved upward. "Why did she leave?"

"She t-told us about Albert," Lenny whispered, blue eyes sad again.

"Ah." She swallowed hard. "Thank you for letting me know."

He bobbed his head.

 _Albert_. He had been a cause of great distress and turmoil for Neri during the Blight, and with good reason, but she had found some peace when the Templar had finally confronted her in Denerim. They had spoken with one another, and later he had saved her life from a darkspawn emissary before dying himself during the battle. Seeing Anders again must have been difficult for Neri; he was the reason she had endured such hardships, and was no doubt a constant reminder of that. She couldn't even imagine how guilty Anders must still feel.  _Matters for another day_ , she reminded herself.

She glanced at Lenny once more. "I'm sure they'll be back today," she reassured him; he cocked his head to the side. "Olivia and the others," she clarified.

He gave her a weak smile. "I hope so. A-are you worried?"

She tilted her head slightly. "Not yet. They all know how to handle themselves. I promise if they're not back within a couple of days that I'll go look for them myself."

"I will join you," he said firmly.

"But I'm sure that won't be necessary." She touched his shoulder briefly and then nodded.

Arietta meandered through more nobles, joining some in brief, but polite, conversation, before standing with Nathaniel. He gave her a small nod, keeping his arms folded across his chest as he watched the nobles mingling about the room.

It was still odd to see him standing here, as a Warden, one of  _her_  Wardens. In truth, she had not expected to see him again; she had simply hoped he would not try to raise an army against her thanks to her kindness.

But when he had slipped out of the shadows, bow strapped to his back, on their way back to the Keep, she had drawn her daggers and dropped into a threatening stance, regretting her decision. Then he had dropped the bow to the ground and lifted his hands in surrender, and asked her why she let him go. She had frowned in confusion before sheathing her daggers. " _Our parents are dead; let their actions be bound to their ashes. I don't want to live in the shadow of their deaths_ ," she had said to him. He had watched her carefully, a scowl on his face, before blurting that he wanted to join the Wardens.

Her mouth had fallen open at that. She had understood him wanting to bring honour back to his family; she had just assumed he would find other ways to do it. But even as she was thinking that, she had realised how  _useful_  he would be to her; he was skilled with that bow, had training similar to herself in various fighting styles, he was well educated and he knew the nobility of Amaranthine, and so, she had accepted him.

She did not trust him, not yet, but that did not mean she couldn't use him. And she doubted he would risk the Joining just to get close enough to assassinate her. No, Nathaniel Howe was not  _stupid_ , just a little lost and bitter, or perhaps very bitter, as the case may be.

"Everything okay, Commander?" the archer asked, grey eyes watching her coolly.

"You tell me." She eyed him curiously. "How many of them are my enemy?"

He glanced around the room and eyed each noble in turn. "At least five, perhaps more."

"Have any spoken to you?"

"Many have; in the way you are suggesting though, no."

She nodded and clasped her hands behind her back. "How far will they go, do you think?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask them?" he snapped.

She sighed and bit her tongue. "How would you handle this situation, Nathaniel?"

He looked surprised but regained his composure quickly. "I would confront them."

"Like you confronted me?" She smirked.

He glared at her. "That was  _not_  how I planned our first encounter."

"No, you wanted to assassinate me. Had it all planned out probably, until you changed your mind."

He clenched his jaw. "You're going to hold that over my head, aren't you?"

"I can try; you  _are_  taller than me though," she said lightly.

He finally smiled, even if it was just a twitch of his lips.

She inhaled and looked at the nobles again. She may not trust Nathaniel, but she couldn't expect him to trust her either unless she made an effort to include him. "If they  _are_  planning something, I'd rather they did it on my terms," she divulged.

His brow knitted together. "What are you suggesting?"

"I am still pondering over that."

"Warden Commander," a blonde woman spoke.

"Ser Tamra." Arietta nodded.

"We've heard so much about you; so many good things, unbelievable things. But many of your deeds cost people here a chance at great advancement. So many fortunes run deeply intertwined with the old Arl." This was not news to Arietta. Ser Tamra looked around nervously. "Some nobles here… they seek to end you dominion over them."

Arietta gave her a small smile. "So I have gathered. I don't suppose you know which nobles in particular feel this way?"

Ser Tamra explained the missives she had intercepted and was decoding. They would give Arietta an advantage indeed, but it would be some time before she could get the notes to her. Arietta then spoke at great length with the Seneschal. He suggested a many number of  _solutions_ , none of which she liked. Instead she decided to play the nobles at their own game.

"My Lords and Ladies," Arietta proclaimed loudly, a sea of faces turned to look at her. "I would like to formally invite you all to a celebration, here at the Keep in a week or so. A date is a little difficult to lock down," she chuckled. "But I would like you all to attend. It would be a good opportunity to get to know you all better and resolve any problems we might have." She smiled politely.

She noticed the looks a few nobles gave one another, the odd nod here and there too.

 _Good._   _Let them try to assassinate me at my own party; I will be ready for them._


	28. The Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back! :D I hope you all adored Inquisition. Cullen and Dorian have stolen my heart. Thank you for the comments and kudos, friends. Love you all. And I especially love ElyssaCousland for betaing this baby for me.

If there was a way for him to take a freeze frame of their faces right about now he would have gone to the Void and back to do so - it was priceless. Mouths open. Eyes wide. The poor guy had nearly dropped the purse it was so damned heavy. The looks on both of their faces probably mirrored Anders' from just that morning when Neri had so casually tossed him the very large pouch of coin, telling him it was thanks for everything they did for him when he was 'being a tit and failing at running from the templars'.

Jacob was the man's name, and his wife was Joyce, they'd brought the toddler, Billy, and the little boy, Darren, with them grinned at the couple as they continued to stare in disbelief and awe at the heavy pouch. Anders' grin widened when Jacob tentatively peered inside of the purse; his eyes looked like they might pop out of his head and roll across the muddy ground.

Jacob looked back up, head shaking from side to side. "This is too much. Our house, everything in it, the horse – none of it is worth  _this_."

Anders chuckled and pushed a strand of hair that had fallen free from his tie behind his ear. "That might be so butNeri called this compensation for having to deal with my stupid face," he said with a laugh.

Joyce had tears in her eyes, and Jacob stretched out his hand toward Anders. They shook. " _Thank you_ ," he said to Anders, meaning every syllable, his smile quivering from shock.

Anders nodded, giving him a sideways smile. "It's the least I could do after burning your house down. I'm sorry Neri wasn't free to come meet you herself… she was going to, but something came up."

"Nonsense, lad. We know the Slayer is a busy woman. I cannot thank you, or her, enough. Nor can I apologise enough for those bleedin' Templars that came after you. It was the next morning when they came and asked about the house; we saw no sense in lying, nor did we tell them you were to blame… they came to that conclusion on their own, and stole the neighbour's horses."

Anders gave him a weak smile. "Templars do that. They're gone now though."

"Did you kwiss the girl?" Darren asked, looking up at him with big brown eyes.

Anders crouched down and ruffled his hair. "Not yet; a lot has happened since I saw her last."

"Tell her you love her; that's what daddy always does when he wants a kwiss," he said excitedly.

They all laughed, and Anders stood back up, grinning. He gave the horse a stroke, patting her neck fondly. "Thank you, Elia," he whispered. "For getting me back to her."

Elia blew in his face and Anders took a surprised step back. "She likes you," Joyce informed him, a big smile on her face.

Anders smirked. "She's a fine horse; outran those stallions, she did."

"We'll get out of your hair now, lad," Jacob said, as he again shook his hand.

"If you're ever back in our area, stop by for a cup of tea?" Joyce asked, her cheeks dimpling with her smile.

Anders nodded, and waved goodbye to them all; the toddler gave him a shy wave while still clinging to his mother's hand. He watched them all lead the horses out of the yard, looking like the happiest family he had ever seen, and then sighed heavily. In another life that could have been him, him  _and_  Neri. Instead they had this life, a life where neither of them could have children – for fear of them being mages, and because of the taint – a life where they had wasted so much  _time_. They used to do everything together; they were inseparable. Even now that they were here  _together_  they weren't really together. He needed to talk to her. He  _missed_  talking to her. They used to chat about anything and everything, or so he had thought, but they had both kept secrets from one another...

It would be enough just to feel like she was actually at his side again.

He headed inside, knowing to avoid the main hall where Arietta was entertaining the nobility. The Commander had managed to gather all of the stony-faced Wardens together in one place, with the exception of Maxime, but where the others would give curt replies and glares, Maxime would probably talk their ears off. It would be a miracle if the nobles left the Keep feeling any better about the Warden presence here after meeting  _that_  bunch.

He found himself tittering on the edge of Neri's office, the door wide open; he'd walked all this way, his feet seemingly making the decision of whether to talk to Neri or not for him. He peeked in, but she wasn't inside. He thought about turning to leave but his impatient feet stepped in and soon he was standing over her desk.

He hadn't meant to snoop.

Really, he hadn't.

But the letter was just  _lying_  there, begging to be read.

He picked up the thick parchment, noticing it had a strange… leathery smell to it, and then began to read.

_Greetings from Antiva!_

_My dear Warden, I wish I had better news for you. Unfortunately, I do not. Our elusive assassin remains even more elusive in death, it seems. The Crows I have_ spoken  _with have not been very forthcoming with information. I fear this may remain a mystery until such a time that your strange enemy makes themselves known, yes? I would come home to you mia cara, but it is not safe while the Crows are being so pesky. Who would have thought my interrogations would anger them so? Perhaps I shall kill them all? Ha ha ha, that would be fun, no? Ah but my dear, you should be at my side for such a venture!_

_I do hope the darkspawn do not stick around for too long. They are like unwelcome house guests who overstay their welcome, no? At least it gets you out of that dreary castle though. Come to think of it, your new Keep is probably far worse, yes? And if Ferelden weather is as I recall, well then, all the more reason to come to Antiva, no?_

_Alas, I know it cannot be so._

_Don't have too much fun without me now. I will write to you soon, amore mio._

_Until then, you remain in my dreams; especially the naughty ones._

_Yours always,_

_Z._

Anders' hands curled into fists, crumpling the edges of the parchment. Neri had alluded to, and eluded answering any of his questions, about an elven lover during their drinking games the night prior. Could this 'Z' person be that same elf? Or was this  _another_  lover? The terms of endearment used certainly seemed more intimate than simple friendship. And they were  _Antivan_ ; he had heard stories of the Antivans' rich accents, tanned skin, and talents in the bedroom. He could feel his gut twisting with jealously and his chest tightening with worry. What if it was worse than just sex? What if she was in a… a  _relationship?_

The others claimed that Neri still loved him, and perhaps she did – there  _had_  been moments where they were back to their old selves, back to being friends almost, and then she would get cold or bitter all over again. But what if she was pulling back, keeping her distance on purpose, because she loved another?

Anders sat down hard in the chair in front of her desk, staring at the words on the paper.  _If_  she loved someone else, it would explain  _a lot_. He swallowed thickly. If he was too late… if she really was lost to him –

 _Why_  had he wasted so much time?

After everything Neri had done for him, done to  _save_  him, time and time again, he had just squandered it all. He had asked her  _why_ , why she had done it. " _You know why_ ," had been her reply back in the Tower after Uldred – the first time he had seen her in  _so_  long. And then she had been gone  _again_. She couldn't say the words, nor could he… but in solitary, they had been the only thing keeping him sane, keeping him fighting against the darkness and the demons whispering in his mind.

She had saved him  _again._

And to think that after all of this time, of finally realising how much she meant to him, how much he needed her, how much he  _wanted_  her, she could just be  _gone_ , in love with another, lost to him… To think he might not ever get to kiss her again, to hold her close, to wake up to her grinning, freckled cheeks each morning…

His heart  _ached_.

"Anders?"

He nearly leapt out of the chair he was slumped in at Neri's voice from the doorway. Those big brown eyes of hers locked onto the parchment in his hand and narrowed. He gulped.

She arched an eyebrow at him.

"Uhhh," he said, fumbling for an explanation – let's be honest, anything would have been better than  _that_.

Her mouth twitched and she moved to sit at her desk. "Nosey as ever, I see," she said lightly as she took a seat. She held her hand out and he handed back the letter; she un-crumpled the edges almost tenderly, before putting the letter in her drawer.

"Who's this Z person?" he blurted, wincing slightly at how pathetic that sounded.

She snorted, that little derisive snort of hers that makes her nose crinkle. "Of all the things to fixate on, Anders, the  _sender_  would not have been at the top of my list given the contents of that particular letter," she said with a small laugh.

"I –" his mouth hung open and he frowned. "Who is he?"

A smile touched her lips, playful and teasing in nature. He'd seen that look a hundred times. "How do you know it's a he? It could very well be a female, with me."

Anders rolled his eyes. "Fine, who are  _they?"_

That cheeky smile was still playing about her lips. " _His_  name is Zevran."

Anders chewed on his lip. Maker, there was so much they needed to talk about. But he needed to know  _this_ ; he needed to know where he stood. Albert, blood magic, the Blight, all of that could be discussed later.

He found her eyes again and steeled himself. "Are you and him…?"

She sat back in her chair and smiled innocently. That was also a look he had seen many times, it was the next step up in her endless ladder of teasing. "Are me and him…what?"

He was relieved she was in such a good mood; after telling the others about Albert the night before, he had worried she would be sour today, but she wasn't. However, her playful mood could be  _just_  as bad. She was going to drag this out for as long as possible, when all he wanted to do was  _talk_.

"You know what I mean," he moaned.

"Do I? I don't think I do." She fluttered her lashes at him. "Are we… dancing partners? Circus performers? Choir singers?" She giggled.

"Are you fucking him?" he snapped, shocking them both.

Her shock turned into a roguish smile. "Are you jealous?"

Anders could feel his cheeks burning.

She gasped and leant forward in her seat. "You  _are!_ "

He folded his arms and pouted. "Am not."

She grinned at him, that brilliant white, sparkling smile that could light any room; he all but melted at such a sight.

He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat, trying to cover up his embarrassment. "I just think it's rude you didn't invite  _me_ …"

She nodded her head, grinning ear to ear. "Uh huh, sure."

"You are impossible," he groaned, getting more and more exasperated.

She craned her head to the side, her eyes taking on something akin to pity. She smiled softly and sighed. "He is a Crow, or was. He was hired by Loghain to assassinate the remaining Grey Wardens; we decided to keep him because we thought he might be useful, and he was  _really_  hot. Arietta didn't think that, of course… but I did. Anyway, Zev and I became fast friends; he's just our type, Anders. You'd like him, a lot." Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she stared at him. "Later, we started sleeping together. It was casual at first, and then got more serious later."

Anders lowered his head, his heart thrumming loudly in his chest. Dread. That was what he was feeling right now. He was dreading her telling him exactly what they had both feared saying a year ago to each other. She had moved on, found another. And rightly so, he had no claim on her – he left her  _so_  many times on that foolish mission of his to find his mother...

"We had a talk, not long ago; we both agreed to take a break," she said quietly, and he lifted his head, hope crashing over him like a wave. "He's in Antiva, and I'm here. Long distance was not something we wanted to try, and we were always very  _fluid_  with our relationship so a break seemed… natural. He has work to do in Antiva, and I have my hands full here." She sighed, a slight frown marring her brow. "I  _miss_  him." He watched her, remaining totally still, trying not to show how he was feeling, trying not to show how  _hard_  this was for him to hear.

"It was hard for me," she continued, echoing his thoughts. "To start things with him," she clarified. "But I didn't want to die stopping the Blight with Albert's touch still burned into my flesh. And before you ask, yes, he was the elf I was referring to last night but refused to talk about. He's one of my best friends, Anders."

She smiled sadly at him. "I didn't think… I didn't mean to fall in love with him, it just sort of happened." Her words stung him, like a lance straight through his chest; a small breath hissed in through his teeth but apart from that he remained composed. Years of lying, of hiding and perfecting his poker face in the Circle had made it all too easy to do such a thing – but he didn't  _want_  to, he wanted to bare his soul to her, to tell her everything, but his throat was tightening and his tongue felt like lead in his mouth.

"You were in solitary, for a  _year_ , Anders. And I wasn't sure how you felt, not truly."

Regret hurt worse than dread. His gut flipped and tied in a knot; he leaned forward, and stared at the wood of the desk. He could see her lean forward further at the periphery of his vision. And then a delicate, soft hand touched his and his eyes snapped up to hers.

"I  _never_  stopped loving you, though," she whispered, so quietly he was almost certain she hadn't said it at all.

Her thumb caressed his skin, sending shivers up his arm. He swallowed hard. He needed to – he  _had_ to know. "Do you –" The words caught in his throat. He took a shaky breath. Maker, he was actually trembling! "Do you still love me?" he asked, his voice hoarse and quiet.

She sat back and snorted, shaking her head slightly, sounding exasperated; his gut tightened uncomfortably. "I  _should_  be mad at you, escaping from the Tower like that. Maker's moth-eaten undergarments, Anders. You could have gotten yourself  _killed_. Then there's the fact that you've gone and pissed the bloody Templars and Chantry off some more – do you know how hard I, well, mostly Arietta and Alistair, have worked on smoothing over relationships with them? Pretty bloody hard, apparently! And now it could all go tits up because of  _you,_ and me," she added coyly, a smile stretching up the side of her face, "but mostly you."

Anders gulped.

"You know, if you had continued to snoop through  _my_  things you would have found a charming letter from Greagoir." She held up a scrunched up parchment. "You can practically  _feel_  the vein in his forehead throbbing through the page in fury." She chuckled, and so did Anders, albeit a little nervously.

She got up from her desk, pacing slightly. "You've done some really stupid shit, Anders."

He opened his mouth to object; he never could resist a good argument. But she turned around to face him, her eyes bright and her smile genuine. "But I never could stay mad at you."

He leaned back in his chair, feeling  _so_  relieved and a little more confident. "I nearly had you a number of times with my flirting." Okay, a lot more confident. She smirked and came to lean against his side of the desk, her leg brushing against his; even that slight contact felt so warm and so  _right_. "But just as I thought things were back to how they used to be, you'd turn ice cold again."

She nodded, looking slightly more sombre. "The Tower was an entire lifetime ago for me, Anders. Things… things can't be how they were, they won't ever be. But you're right; I can't resist your charms,  _especially_  when you wear that loose fitted shirt, with just a smattering of chest hair visible. Bloody bastard," she laughed.

"I knew you'd like that," he said through a smirk. "Consider it payback for coming to the Circle during the Blight in that mid-thigh length robe of yours.  _Maker_."

She giggled girlishly. "You should be  _thanking_  me; at least it gave you some material to think about during all of those  _lonely_  nights in solitary." She winked, teasingly nudging his leg with hers.

He grinned– she knew him  _far_  too well – and she burst out laughing; it was such a wonderful sound, he was momentarily stunned by it. He kicked his brain back into life; there was  _more_  he needed to say. "You were the only thing that kept me going in solitary. Before Uldred's revolt, I was…considering, well, I wanted to." He sighed. "I thought about ending it, my life, I mean," he finished on a whisper. "The demons tormented me  _every single night_. And it was  _so_  dark. Time… just sort of faded." He shuddered and looked up at Neri; her eyes were filled with tears, and he wanted nothing more than to hug her… to kiss her.

He swallowed, trying to focus. "When the rage demon attacked my cell and freed me…and I found out you were at the Tower, I knew I had to find you, to see you again. After… when you said those three words to me... It was  _enough_." He took her hands in his, cupping them tightly, savouring the warmth flooding through him. "You kept me strong on those dark nights when the demons howled at me.  _You_ kept me alive, kept me  _living_." She shuddered; there was such a vulnerable look on her face, probably mirroring his own expression.

"You have saved my life more times than I can count, and I can count a lot higher than Oghren." She let out a sob-like chuckle. "I can never repay you for all you have done, all you have endured and put up with because of me."

"For. For you, Anders," she corrected stubbornly.

He smiled sadly. "I never meant to make your life  _miserable._ " He lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed each knuckle, making her body shiver and her lips part slightly. She moved her hand to cup his face and he leaned into her touch, closing his eyes as he sighed contentedly.

"I am not miserable, Anders. I might have been for a time...but not now." He opened his eyes watching her carefully. "And I'm sorry I've been… cold." She chewed on her lip as her fingers scraped along his stubble and tucked that errant strand of hair behind his ear once more. "Anders I –" She shook a shaky breath. "There are things you don't know. I want to be with you, Maker knows I do. But I  _can't_." She looked pained; her lips curled downwards, eyes flooding with tears. "With Zev and… there is just  _so_  much. I can't." She squeezed her eyes shut, her hand falling back into her lap in frustration.

His own hand hovered half between them, wanting to comfort her, to touch her. He dropped it back into his lap. He frowned, biting his tongue and then the words tumbled out of his mouth. "I love you."

She snapped her eyes open and stared at him.

"I… I've never said it," he explained. "And you said you didn't know for certain. Well, I do. I love you. No matter what happens, I just needed you to know that."

She smiled sadly. "I love you too," she croaked.

She took a deep breath, and then moved away from him to sit back at her desk, her hands rubbing her temples.

He glanced down at the desk and remembered the letter. "Alright, I'll bite. Who wants you assassinated?"

"Oh, you as well?" Arietta suddenly said from the doorway, and Neri groaned. The Commander stepped into the room properly, frowning. "Neri?"

Neri looked up at Arietta, visibly cringing. "Do you  _promise_  not to freak out?" She glanced at Anders too. "Either of you?" Anders shared a nervous look with Arietta, and then they both nodded. Neri took a deep breath and glanced at Arietta. "On your wedding night an Antivan Crow named Deon tried to assassinate me." Arietta frowned. "And by tried to I mean very nearly succeeded."

" _Maker_. What happened? Why didn't you  _tell_  me?" Arietta scolded, looking furious, her blue eyes icy. She kicked the door shut and the marched closer to Neri's desk, where the little elf was looking even smaller than usual.

"We thought it was Deon's partner, Carina, that was the Crow; she was wearing armour under her gown. Zev was  _dealing_  with her. And I was drunk, and jealous, and really horny, so I… well, Deon was  _right_  there, and we went into the study and…"

Arietta groaned, rubbing the side of her face. "Where did you…?"

Neri blushed all the way to the tips of her ears. "The desk," she revealed with a slight smirk.

"Ugh! Neri, I  _use_  that desk!" Arietta said, her nose crinkling in disgust.

Neri smiled guiltily. "Sorry!" She swallowed. "Anyway, I was midway through an orgasm when he hits me with a  _smite_!"

Anders sucked in air through his teeth.

"It was… mind blowing, almost literally. I was seeing stars. And that, of course, left me defenceless: naked, without magic or a weapon and totally dazed." Anders realised he had leaned all the way forward, and his toes were tapping nervously on the ground. Hearing about how close to death she had come…it made him feel physically sick. "Come to think of it, it would have been  _really_  embarrassing if I  _had_  died then and there. Read all about it! The Slayer of the Archdemon dies during a drunken romp! She finally found a sword too big for her to handle.  _Ugh_."

Arietta cleared her throat. "Neri, back on topic?"

"Right! He was an arrogant son of a bitch, and wouldn't tell me shit. He had the gall to tell me to just  _stand_  there so I didn't get any blood on his silks," she scoffed. "So I slit my palm with a piece of broken ink pot, and I killed him with my blood." She looked down at her palm and ran her finger across the scar that marred it.

"I… still can't believe you're a blood mage, even if it isn't from a demon," Anders said, watching her wearily. "What you did to those darkspawn…"

Neri looked up at him and sighed. "It's saved my life and the lives of others three times now."

"But you looked like you  _enjoyed_  it."

She shrugged. "It's… nice. I like the feeling, the pain and pleasure mixing." She swallowed. "It's addictive."

He sat back in his chair, staring at her, trying to process her words.

She pushed her fringe out of her face. "I'd be dead without it; it was necessary."

Arietta, who had been very silent, let out a long exhale. "I wasn't sure about letting Avernus live, but if you are alive because of him then… perhaps it wasn't such a bad decision. I don't like the blood magic though, Neri. I want you to promise me you won't use it unless the situation is dire."

Neri nodded, once. "Zev's in Antiva trying to find out who hired Deon. He isn't having much luck, and now he's drawn the attention of the Crows too. But if we  _can_  figure that out then at least I don't have to worry about random ambushes from Crows any time soon. Can't say the same for darkspawn, though."

"The person who wanted you dead, could that be Albert?" Anders asked quietly.

"No. He saved my life during the battle for Denerim, and then he died."

Anders' jaw fell open and Neri chuckled. "It's a long story." She shrugged and turned to Arietta. "So, which nobles want you dead?"


	29. The Lafayettes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a personal quest chapter thing for Coline, hopefully it's not too dull. I want to give all of these OCs some more 'layers'. We shall see how that goes, eh? 
> 
> Thank you all who are following and commenting here, you are wonderful. I mentioned over on FF.net that if anybody has any ideas that they'd want to see written (but maybe can't or wouldn't want to write themselves) (preferably for Inquisition) I'm taking suggestions atm and will pick a fave idea and maybe write something up. It's not an official 'gift', more of a I fancy writing for Quisi but want to thank and involve my readers more in future stuff thing, so if you have ideas throw them at me and we shall see if any stick. 
> 
> As always, thank you Lys for the marvellous beta work, my dear! (I can't say my dear anymore without hearing Viv's voice, and that just makes me sound like a condescending bitch half the time. *sigh*) 
> 
> It's a short chapter so expect an update Sunday too :)

Coline left the main hall, stiff, tried and irritated. She hated nobility; she had for a long time now. They were all the same; all selfish  _chattes_ * who wanted nothing more than to further their wealth, their position of power, the size of their land or their homes. She was sick of them all, and she was sick of always being the Warden who had to  _reason_  with them. She hated it, she hated  _them._  These Fereldan ones were no different from Orlais; the only differences were the accents and the clothes they wore. The entire ceremony was ridiculous – Wardens, ruling an Arling!  _Absurde_. They had more important things to be doing than shaking hands with and placating these pathetic dog lords.

She walked down the corridor, rolling her shoulders. "What a pointless waste of time," she huffed.

Nathaniel fell into step beside her, his strides long and sure. "For you, perhaps."

She frowned. "And it wasn't for you?"

"I meant for the Commander."

She glanced at him, scanning that emotionless face of his. "She means to draw out her attackers," Coline realised. He gave her a small nod. "And will you be helping with that?"

"That remains to be seen."

"It's a risky move, hosting a party, hoping they will try to kill her. There will be a lot of variables to consider," Coline mused, thinking back to another party, almost a lifetime ago. "I guess there is a queue to kill her, now. Are you planning on getting in line?" she asked loftily.

"No."

Coline snorted. "Lost all your bravado, have you, Howe?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You came here to kill her, then you just wanted to steal your stuff back, and now you are, what? Fighting at her side?" she scoffed. "It is odd, is all."

"She showed me a kindness I had not expected to receive upon coming back to Ferelden. I had nothing but a smeared name. Is it so wrong of me to accept this opportunity to try to build my family's name back up?"

"I suppose assassinating the Queen of Ferelden wouldn't really help with that."

"Not particularly."

"It was a pretty dumb idea in the first place."

Nathaniel sighed. "Words spoken by the only person present who  _has_  actually assassinated someone."

She stopped walking and folded her arms. "You don't know the circumstances, Howe," she spat.

"No. I do not." His gaze shifted to something behind her before returning to her. "Looks like you have company. She was eyeing you for much of the ceremony." He nodded and left her standing in the corridor.

"My lady," a small voice said from behind her.

Coline turned and cocked her head to the side. "Ser Tamra," she said coolly. "What is it?"

The woman looked around nervously. "I have information for you. It is regarding your step-mother's daughter." Coline swallowed, her features darkening. "She is in the city," Tamra continued in a whisper.

Coline moved closer. "Where is she staying?" she all but hissed.

"I saw her get off a boat as I was leaving to come here. I do not know where she is staying, I imagine it is in the city though. I thought it best to warn you."

"It is definitely her?"

"I would know her anywhere. She is Orlais' sweetheart," Tamra said confidently.

Coline nodded. "Thank you. Now  _leave_."

Tamra didn't need to be told twice and skittered off down the corridor. It paid to know which nobles were worth keeping in your pocket; scoping out the nobles here had been one of the first things she did upon arriving in Ferelden.

She stormed off to her quarters, rage coiling inside of her. She slammed the door to her room and paced, her fine Orlesian boots clinking on the hard stone with each frantic step.  _Charmaine,_  she was a classically beautiful blonde, with bright blue eyes, a cute button nose and dimples in her cheeks. They called her ma jolie chérie in Orlais: my beautiful darling. Coline shuddered. She  _hated_  that spoilt little bitch. Her mother… Esme Lafayette had been no better; a well-loved woman, wealthy and beautiful, until Coline had ended her wretched life.

Coline's real mother had died when she was just a teen; her father, Claude, had remarried just two months later to Esme, which meant Coline had to live with her and Charmaine. She had been grieving, and her father had just replaced her mother – it  _hurt_. But that did not hurt as much as the following few years of her life.

Slowly, she was excluded more and more, saw her father less and less as her step-mother and sister stole her father away from her. He tried to make time for her, but she knew he had money problems and pleasing his new wife was the only way he would be able to look after her. As a troubled teen she had not understood; she had rebelled against them all, always so angry. She didn't understand, she  _couldn't_ , she despised these intruders; they were not welcome. Her father explained time and time again that if he hadn't remarried so soon that he would have lost the house – the house Coline's real mother had designed, had spent most of her life watching come to life. But that did not make the situation any easier to bear.

Things had gotten much, much worse when she had turned sixteen. Her father had wanted to marry her off; she had refused, and her step-mother had then asked her to move out. Again, Coline had refused. Instead, she had asked for her inheritance. None came. She was refused it. And then she was kicked out. She had asked her father not to do it, but he had needed to keep Esme and Charmaine happy, which they were decidedly not while Coline was around. She could have begged, she could have gotten on her knees and pleaded, but she was a noble through and through. She would not grovel.

Coline had hated her father for a long time after that. What good was their mother's pride and joy, their  _family_  home if they were not a family anymore? She could have stayed with friends, but to let them see her out on the streets with not a penny to her name… it was unthinkable. And so she had adamantly refused to depend upon others to survive. She had decided to find her own way. But that had meant living on the streets for a time. At first she had tried to find dropped coins on the ground or garbage thrown away by nobles that she could sell. She had looked for work, asking to be paid with food if they could not afford the coin. But she had quickly learned how unforgiving Val Royeaux could be to those with no coin. She had slept on the streets, in parks when she could sneak in at night, other times in alleys or doorways.

It had been  _hard_.

She was not certain at which point she had become desperate enough to offer her own body up for coin. But it didn't matter when she had a belly full of food and some coin in her pocket. It had been quick, the loss of her sense of superiority; starvation had a habit of doing that to you. You became desperate, willing to do anything. She was attractive, so coin came easily; it was not until one man was particularly rough with her that she decided she needed to learn how to fight.

There were enough street urchins in a city of that size to teach her some basic skills. Theft was the first skill she learned. Ironically, it had been Rafael to teach her such a thing. They had only crossed paths one or two times, and neither of them cared for the other; he had a group of people he worked with, whereas she preferred to be alone. It had been thanks to his contacts though that she was able to purchase the poison.

As much as she had hated her father, she had still loved him and she had  _missed_ him. Most of her anger had been directed at her step-mother, instead. That shrew had ruined her life. Whenever some ugly, fat old man stuffed his prick between her legs she had let that hatred wash over her – anger was her only anchor, the only thing stopping her from losing her mind, from letting everything overwhelm her. She latched onto it with a vice-like grip. Survive and hate. That is all she knew for  _years_.

Until, one day she saw her father in the market.

He had been so shocked to see her, so relieved. His hug had been the first welcomed human contact she had experienced for so long. She sobbed into his shoulder.  _That_  time she begged, pleaded for him to take her home. But still he could not. He told her how he wanted a divorce; he was just trying to figure out a way to do that without losing the house to Esme. He had sobbed too. He looked so old, so tired; he had told her that Esme was awful to him, that Charmaine was no better, but the house was all he had left of Coline's mother, and he wouldn't, he  _couldn't_  lose that.

They had agreed to meet at the market each week. And each week he had told her the awful things Esme had done, of the endless wants and needs of her and her daughter. Each week he had looked more and more frail more and more exhausted and  _broken._ Life on the streets was about survival; you had to take action if you wanted to live, and her father looked to be dying from the stress of it all. And so, acting is exactly what she had done.

It had not been difficult. Esme had held a party for her 'fortieth' Name Day – in reality she was fifty. Coline had slipped into her old home, knowing every low wall, every tree branch, every open window. She had stolen away into the bedrooms, dressed herself in a fancy Orlesian mask and one of Charmaine's gowns, a dark blue thing that hung off of her scrawny frame, before she had headed outside to the party.

Her father had been giving a speech, drawing everyone's eyes to him. Patience and waiting for opportunity, those things had been burned into her, and so she had waited for Esme to put her glass down. It had been a quick drop and the poison had mixed in with the deep red wine perfectly; nobody noticed, nobody said anything, not even as Esme picked the glass back up and drank. Nobody had stopped her leaving either as Esme clutched her neck, choking in agony as blood gurgled out of her mouth. In the panic, Coline had escaped easily, smiling smugly. It wasn't until the next day that she had been detained by the guard and charged with the murder of her step-mother. Her father had begged the authorities for her life, but the guards and the magistrates would not listen. Only the Wardens could save her, and they had. She had begged them, on her knees. Stroud had pitied her and had accepted, and she had promised to work harder than any other recruit, and she had. She was a  _damn_   _good_  Warden.

She  _liked_  being a Warden, most of the time. No, she wasn't a fan of the blood or the deaths or the gore or the bad weather… but she  _did_  like the structure, the discipline, and having a purpose. She  _needed_  that, it stopped her from… panicking.

But Charmaine coming to Amaranthine meant her old life was threatening her new one. If that bitch was here, it could only be for revenge. Coline paced some more; it was times like these that she needed Tamsin. She needed to feel in control of  _something_  when everything else was falling apart. But Tamsin was gone, her anchor was gone, and now she was just drifting, clinging onto her superior's orders, focusing on tasks she could complete… She stopped pacing. She was  _not_  going to let Charmaine ruin her life further. She would take a page from the Commander's book and  _act._

She stalked down the stairs, deciding to try the dining hall first – a safe bet to find at least one Warden; they were always eating. And as luck would have it she found  _two_. Lenny was sipping a cup of tea, nothing unusual there, and Nathaniel was tucking into some kind of stew, dunking in his bread occasionally.

She marched up to them both and stopped just short of the table. "I require the both of you," she said evenly, not letting them see how close she was to breaking point.

They both looked up and frowned at her. "There is something I need to take care of in the city," she explained. "I will tell you on the way."

"I-I'm expecting Olivia back t-today," Lenny said, shaking his head.

"It will be a short trip, trust me," she said sharply.

Nathaniel stood, with a huff. "I'll go get my bow."

Lenny sighed, but rose to his feet too.

**…**

They approached Amaranthine just as it began to spit with rain, much to Coline's annoyance; her hair always frizzed in the rain, and if she was to confront Charmaine she wanted to do it with every advantage she could get. Feeling beautiful made you more confident, something Coline sorely needed right now.

"So, you and Olivia are dating?" Nathaniel cautiously asked.

Lenny glanced over at the black haired rogue. "We're married," he quietly corrected.

"Oh… I did not know," Howe said, his attempt to hide his surprise was a total failure, even Lenny saw it.

"Well w-we are," he said as evenly as he could manage.

Howe was quiet for a minute, obviously not wanting to step on any more egg shells. "Been married long?"

"Three years," Lenny said with a slight smile.

"Congratulations," Nathaniel said genuinely. "It must be interesting with all of the darkspawn getting in the way."

Lenny nodded, as he brushed his hair back from his long face. "Something l-like that."

"She's strong, I can attest to that, got quite a shield bash on her."

"You don't need t-to compliment her. I already f-forgave you for the attack. And she will understand too."

Nathaniel gave him a half-smile. "Will the other... Rafael, was it? Be so forgiving?"

Lenny lifted his head enough to smirk at him. "You'll h-have to wait and see."

"If you boys are quite done bonding, we're at the city. Eyes open," Coline said as she walked through the city's gates.

"What are we looking for exactly?" Nathaniel asked, as they stood in the square looking around like children on Satinalia.

"Look for a gorgeous blonde haired woman with big blue eyes," Coline said as she glanced around the crowds with a sigh; there were a lot of blonde ladies.

"There's a blonde," Nathaniel supplied helpfully.

"Another over there," Lenny pointed out.

Coline glared at both of them.

"There's another," Nathaniel said with a slight smirk.

She ran a hand through her hair; this was futile.

She tried to think of where Charmaine would go, what she would do. The Chantry bell started to ring for afternoon prayers, and Coline clicked her fingers. "She was a devout Andrastian!"

"You think she came all this way to pray in Amaranthine's Chantry?" Nathaniel said incredulously.

"Got any other ideas, slick?" Coline snapped.

"None, my lady," he said, in challenge to the nickname she had used; she glared at him even as her cheeks blushed slightly. She headed through the crowds, cursing under her breath; Nathaniel was having an  _unusual_  effect on her, one she did not care to see grow.

Coline took the steps two at a time, and walked in through the Chantry doors. She scanned the backs of heads, until her eyes rested on some long soft blonde waves. The woman was knelt, praying at the front. Coline put her hood up and slid into a pew; Nathaniel and Lenny did the same.

"Is that her?" Nathaniel whispered.

"Yes," Coline uttered quietly.

"What now?"

"Now, we wait."


	30. The Expected and the Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a Sunday update! 
> 
> Thank you Lys for betaing for me, my dear! 
> 
> Back to the main gang on Thursday :)

It was odd to be in a Chantry again. The last one he had been in had been back in Orlais. That had been a modest one, by Orlesian standards, not far from the Alienage he had grown up in. He had gone there seeking aid. The elves in the Alienage had bullied him mercilessly; he had no friends, and even what little family he'd had then had rejected him. He was desperate, and so very hungry. He remembered thinking that the Creators had cursed or abandoned him; he had hoped that the Maker would prove a more benevolent God. He had thought they would help the needy; it was what they were  _supposed_  to do, but apparently the sight of a scraggly-looking elf entering the small, prettily decorated chapel before one of their morning services was not what they wanted to deal with. They had  _shooed_  him away, kicking him out onto the street like he was vermin. The memory still stung and left a bitter taste in his mouth.

After that he had wandered the streets aimlessly, uncertain as to where he would go next, scared, and on the verge of a panic attack. He didn't want to go back to the Alienage, he couldn't face them again, he didn't want to live on the streets either though, he doubted he even could, but he had nothing and nowhere to go. And then he had seen the man with the impressive moustache in silver and blue plate armour walking through the streets. Lenny had followed him; he didn't even know why, but that man had such a presence, such confidence, everything Lenny lacked. Perhaps he had thought by watching him long enough, some of that confidence would rub off on him. That could not have been further from the truth, of course. When the man had been attacked, Lenny had been terrified; he had cowered behind a wall, watching as the man cut down foe after foe. His movements were so fluid, so sure; he knew what he was doing, but he didn't seem to enjoy it either. There was such a grim look on his face, and most of his attacks had been to incapacitate his enemies rather than to butcher or kill.

Lenny had been in awe of him. All of his life he had hated conflict, and here was a man who seemed to take no enjoyment from such things either. He was  _everything_  Lenny wanted to be; the only part of him Lenny hadn't wanted was the moustache – such a thing would never grow on his own face, as elves don't have a lot of hair. So when one of the attackers that this man had knocked down rose back up, blade in hand, ready to strike the warrior; Lenny had lunged forward, rock in hand, and had smashed the attacker over the head with it. The man had turned and held a blade at Lenny's neck until he realised what had just occurred.

The man had introduced himself as Stroud, of the Grey Wardens, and had thanked Lenny for saving his life. Lenny wasn't particularly proud of what he did next, but he had fallen to his knees and  _begged_  Stroud to make him a Warden. The poor human had been terribly confused, and they had talked for some time about the Wardens and about Lenny's life, until finally he agreed to take him on and train him.

That seemed like a lifetime ago now. And yet the Chantry they currently sat in was almost identical to the one that had rejected him. But this time he was sitting in a pew in the middle of the day, and  _nobody_  could tell him to leave because he was a Warden now. He thought it was ironic that when he had needed their help, the Chantry sisters had chased him off; now when he was here with someone practically plotting murder, they were coming over to ask if they needed someone to  _bless_  them. It felt extremely good when Coline shooed  _them_  off; their faces were always confused and slightly hurt, and Lenny imagined he had looked similar once.

The blonde was still praying quietly at the front; she hadn't moved an inch since they had arrived. Howe was huffing every few minutes, shifting in his seat, clearly bored. Coline sat patiently in silence, like a cat watching its prey; she had the keen brown eyes, the sharp nose, and the lithe – ready to pounce – frame of a cat. She was a terrifying woman when she had a clear goal laid out in front of her.

Lenny had read a few of the hymn books while they waited, but those had become boring very quickly, especially when he didn't really agree with anything in any of the songs' lyrics. He only prayed to the Maker in times of desperation, and always alongside the Creators, but Lenny knew better than to rely on some almighty beings to keep Olivia safe; the only way to protect her was to stay at her side to make sure nothing happened to her – something he was unable to do currently because of the violet haired woman's damned hunt.

He knew a little of Coline's past. He of course knew she had poisoned her step-mother; the Wardens recruited her before she was sentenced to death, but Coline had explained everything in greater detail than she had ever before on the walk to Amaranthine. Howe and Lenny had listened silently, just letting the archer rant. He wasn't sure it helped her to be any less angry, but at least they all knew what to expect, or at least what they were getting themselves into, now.

Coline was always so prim and proper; it was difficult to imagine her on the streets,  _selling_  herself just to get by. He knew how difficult it could be surviving alone; knowing how much she had gone through, it made him respect her more than he ever had, and Nathaniel was looking at her with something akin to admiration in his eyes as well. It all made a lot more sense too: her need for control, to have everything go smoothly; her life had been flipped upside down, everything had slipped through her fingers… The Wardens gave her some measure of purpose again, but she needed control to feel safe. That was where Tamsin had come in, he assumed.

"Is she praying for forgiveness for the murders she's about to attempt?" Howe whispered.

Coline scowled at him. "If she is, it has been a pointless waste of an hour."

"G-go up to her," Lenny insisted.

"No."

"Why not?" he asked in confusion.

She frowned at him. "I don't want to make a scene in the Chantry." She looked back at the blonde, stopping any further discussion.

Lenny wasn't quite sure that was the real reason, but he didn't press it; the last thing he wanted was to make a scene either. He just wanted to be with Olivia again; he just wanted to know that she was okay. Seeing Arietta return to the Keep without Olivia, but  _with_  Howe, had sent him into a panic, until he realised the dwarf and Rafael weren't returning either, and that Howe wasn't in chains, or dead. Lenny had been annoyed at himself for getting injured in the fight with Howe; if he hadn't been, he would be with Olivia in the Blackmarsh now. Instead he had to trust that she was in safe hands with Rafael and the dwarf.

"She's leaving," Coline muttered apprehensively.

They all peered up at the blonde.

"Don't stare!" Coline hissed on a whisper. "Lower your heads in prayer," she barked quietly.

Lenny and Nathaniel did as they were told.

They followed Charmaine out the Chantry a few moments later, and down the steps. They continued to follow her for some distance as she wound her way through the busy streets. The city was very crowded. Lenny hated crowds. He always felt like people were staring at him, which in truth, could not be more wrong, he was practically invisible to these people. That didn't calm him much though. It appeared to be some kind of human market event, and the air was filled with a dozen different smells: cheeses, meats, fish, fruits, spices, nuts and vegetables. They walked for what seemed like hours but in reality it was probably only half an hour. The city was a maze, but Charmaine walked with purpose, and didn't falter once. They stopped on a street corner as the woman pulled out a key and entered a house – a small white building with a blue door. They all scowled as the blonde woman left the door ajar.

"Is… is she expecting us?" Lenny asked worriedly, his eyes darting around looking for danger.

"There's only one way to find out," Coline sighed. "Nathaniel, find a way in through the back; Lenny, you're with me." She stalked forward, and Lenny followed with his hands on the hilts of his swords.

They walked into an empty hallway.

"My darlings, please remove your boots if they're muddy; this place is not mine," a sweet voice said from a nearby room.

Coline did not remove her boots as she walked in through the door, holding her bow up. Lenny moved in behind her, his ears perked, listening for threats. His gaze fell upon the blonde, sitting with her legs crossed in a big white and navy chair, sipping a cup of apple juice.

Charmaine pursed her lips at the sight of their shoes. "Really Coline, where are your manners?" she scolded gently.

"What sort of trap is this?" Coline growled, still pointing a taught bow at the blonde.

"If it were, it would be a very strange one, don't you think, ma cherie?"

Nathaniel came in through the back and stood behind them.

Charmaine sighed. "Will you at least sit down?"

Coline lowered her bow, feeling safer with Nathaniel watching with his drawn. "You are going to tell me why you are here. Now."

Charmaine rolled her eyes. "I am here to tell you the truth, if you would listen," she said in an annoyed tone as she pushed a stray hair from her flawless skin.

"Then speak quickly," Coline ordered coolly.

Charmaine pulled out a folder from her bag, and threw it down on the small coffee table. "Read it," she commanded.

Coline eyed it suspiciously, slung her bow over her shoulder, and then picked it up. Her eyes scanned the documents within, and her usually tanned face paled.

"I told you to sit for a reason," Charmaine chastised with a shake of her head.

Coline sat down on the sofa, hard, her hands trembling slightly as she held the parchment. When she looked back up, her face was set in a frown, but there were tears in her eyes. "I don't–" Her voice broke.

Charmaine looked at her sympathetically. "I thought you deserved to know the truth, dear. I only found out recently myself."

Coline's mouth moved, but no words came out; she swallowed thickly and tried again. "How  _could_  he?" she rasped.

Lenny felt distinctly uncomfortable as tears slid down Coline's face; he glanced at Nathaniel, who had suddenly taken great interest in the painting on the wall.

"From what I can gather, your father is not the man you thought you knew. I have reason to believe he killed your real mother, married my mother, set you and her against one another, and then sold you out to the authorities once you assassinated her," Charmaine said gravely.

"He always told me your mother was a bitch… I -" She sounded so lost, and then shook her head, wiping the tears away fiercely. "I  _cannot_  believe this," she said more firmly.

"He always told  _us_  you were a spoilt, rotten brat," Charmaine responded with a sigh, making Coline suck in air through her teeth.

"He spent time with us to get away from you, or so he said, and then you started to act up–"

"And it really did look like I was a spoilt brat," Coline finished numbly, staring back down at the documents in her hand.

"My mother looked after the family's finances. She wasn't trying to cut you out, and she never wanted to kick you out either; it was your father's idea," Charmaine said sullenly. "I tried to talk to you often; I was genuine when I asked you how you were or what you had been up to. I wasn't asking so I could rub what I had been doing with  _your_  father in your face, but you never gave me a chance."

"He said he married your mother so he could afford to keep the house, it was all we had left of mother…" She shook her head angrily. "But you're saying he  _murdered_  her?"

"I don't have any proof, you understand, not of that, at least. But after recent events I began investigating. My first port of call was the guard who claimed to have seen you leaving the party 'looking suspicious'. Your entire trial was a sham, dear. And that street urchin who supposedly sold you the poison was bribed by your father and the guard got a nice promotion for such an arrest, it's all in that document there."

"But my father  _fought_  for me. I don't, this can't be true…"

"I wish it wasn't. So many lives have been ruined by his selfish games. He has  _another_  wife now, and has already acquired her wealth; her eldest son recently had a 'hunting accident'. It was what sparked my investigation into him. I don't doubt that this new wife will fall  _terribly ill_  soon as well. And I am somewhat of a loose end still; he married me off years ago, and seems eager for me to have children. I fear when he finds out I cannot…" She sighed heavily, staring down at her lap. "I am not safe near him, nor is my husband. Coline, you have skills I could never hope to have. I could hire assassins, certainly, but he is  _your_ father," she let that idea hang between them.

"Why is he doing this?" Coline said through clenched teeth, the parchment in her hands crumpling.

"I don't know. All I know is he needs to be stopped. He will be  _here_  soon. In Ferelden," Charmaine said, leaning forward and Coline stared up at her, clogs turning in her brain already. "He is coming for a wedding. They Teyrn of Highever is marrying an Orlesian noble. He may look for a new wife at it, or perhaps he just hopes to make some new wealthy friends. I do not know, but it  _is_  the perfect place for him to meet new people; some of the wealthiest families in Orlais and Ferelden will be in attendance."

"It's also the perfect place for an assassination," Coline remarked venomously, and Lenny's stomach sank.  _Great – more death._


	31. Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late - I may have forgotten to post it here. :P 
> 
> Just a quick note to say that I will post Sunday as well and then take a break for Christmas and New Year.

Max was the first person he saw. Hard not to be, when the mage was sprinting toward him, arms open wide; Rafael practically collapsed into the other man's embrace. "You're back," Max said in his ear, squeezing him almost painfully, or perhaps he was just weaker than usual thanks to his sore ribs. He squeezed the mage back without saying a word, just breathing him in. The mage's hands found his unruly hair and pulled him in for a kiss; Rafael melted into it. After everything he had just been through he needed this, needed Max.

That darkspawn  _baiseur*_  had thrown them into the bloody Fade, and it had taken what felt like days to escape. With no mages in their party, the fights against demons had been brutal; they had quickly become weary, and that had only made the Fade more dangerous as they were slower to realise tricks of the mind. Eventually, they found an entire town _in_  the Fade – the town that had once been situated in the marsh. The town had been pulled into the Fade by a crazy baroness whom their group had fought in order to escape. To top it all off, a spirit-dragon had attacked them on their way out of the marsh.

Rafael had no idea how they all survived the ordeal, but he had never been happier to see the ugly, stone Keep, or the gorgeous man in his arms right now.

Maxime pulled away and cupped his face. "What happened,  _mon amour_?"

"It's a long story, but we were thrown into the Fade," he grumbled, rubbing at his temples.

"Into!? How is that possible?" Max asked incredulously.

"Fuck if I know, Max. It was a shit-storm. Even Oghren got thrown in, which should  _not_  be possible, right?"

" _Merde_ ," Max cursed. "No, it really shouldn't. That darkspawn's magic must have been... I don't even have the words for how powerful it must have been to do that."

Rafael sighed, rubbing his temple.

"Max, is Lenny here?" Olivia asked wearily as she trudged in to the Keep's interior.

"He went to Amaranthine with Coline and Nathaniel," Maxime said with an apologetic smile.

" _Nathaniel_?" Olivia and Rafael asked in unison.

Maxime smacked the side of his head. "Of course, you don't know! He ambushed the Commander on their way back from the city; he wanted to join the Wardens, believe it or not."

Rafael arched both his eyebrows, and Olivia looked just as shocked. "When did they head to the city?" she asked with a sigh.

"Around midday, I think; they should be back this evening some time," Maxime said with a bright smile. His face suddenly fell as his eyes caught sight of something over Rafael's shoulder, and both of his hands flew to his mouth in horror. " _C'est quoi ce bordel!"_ he cried.

Rafael's stomach plummeted as he remembered their "new _"_  Warden. He swallowed down the bile in his throat and looked at Justice as he walked into the Keep's yard with Oghren. Rafael turned back to the panicking Maxime and put a hand on his shoulder. "We found Kristoff's body in the marsh," he started to explain.

"He's  _walking!_ " Maxime hissed, eyes fixed on the spirit.

Rafael swallowed thickly. "I know."

Maxime finally looked at him, eyes searching his face for answers. " _How_ is he walking?"

"While in the Fade we met a spirit of Justice who helped us to get out… but in the process of getting out, the spirit ended up accidentally coming with us. It sort of possessed Kristoff's body," he said with a weary sigh.

Maxime was shaking his head, completely horrified. "Raf, you don't understand –" A shrill scream cut him off and they all looked over to see a woman collapsing to the ground.

"Oh, merde!" Rafael hissed as he ran forward to check on Aura. He rolled her over and wiped the mud from her face before looking up at Kris – Justice. "This is Aura," he growled at the spirit. "Kristoff's  _wife_. I knew bringing you back here was a bad idea. It's just too fucked up," he spat, lip curling in disgust.

"I remember her," the spirit said, craning his friend's dead head to the side. "I can see his memories. I can feel the love he had for her," it said with a pained expression on its rotting face.

"Well, that's what happens when you possess a fucking corpse!" Rafael snapped bitterly.

"Rafael," Olivia scolded angrily. "We agreed to let the Commander decide what to do."

"Surely Aura should decide that?" Maxime suggested as he poured a little healing magic over the unconscious woman.

Rafael sighed and ran a hand through his thick hair. "I do not like this," he uttered sharply. "Kristoff was my  _friend_. How the fuck am I supposed to grieve for him when he's walking around the damn Keep, let alone poor Aura here?"

Olivia folded her arms. "I know it isn't ideal, but we didn't know what would happen if we 'killed' him -"

" _It_ ," Rafael corrected with a growl.

Olivia glared at him and sighed. " _Justice_  offered to help us kill the darkspawn; we  _need_  more people after the massacre. We could hardly refuse him, or worse, let a possessed corpse wander around the countryside…"

"Yes, because having him here at the Keep is  _so_  much better," he snarled.

"You are  _not_  helping!" she groaned, her brown eyes weary; they had argued for hours about Justice back at the marsh before finally deciding to let the Commander deal with it. Rafael had walked on ahead, refusing to even look at his friend's corpse; it made him feel sick just thinking about it.

"You two go at it like nugs in heat," Oghren grunted as he walked past them and into the Keep.

Rafael sighed. "I just… I am  _not_  comfortable with this."

"Yes, I realise that!" she snapped.

He opened his mouth to reply but Aura started to stir in his lap and all of his anger faded. "What, what happened?" she asked with a frown, looking up at him. "Rafey?" She lifted a hand to cup his face and he smiled down at her.

"I'm here, Aura," he reassured her. "You had quite the scare, my lady. Please let me help you up," he said softly as he gave her a hand up.

"I could have sworn I saw…" Her eyes landed on Justice once more and she cried out. "Kristoff!"

"Your husband is gone; I inhabit his body now," Justice explained.

The woman's eyes bulged again and she stifled a cry. "Wha– what? Why are talking like that –  _what happened?_ "

Rafael stood in front of her, squeezing her hands. "Kristoff was killed by darkspawn, Aura. I am  _so_  sorry." She shook her head, not understanding. "This spirit possessed his body accidentally when we ran into some trouble in the marsh."

" _Possessed?_ " she gasped.

"I know," he said sombrely. "But the spirit wants to help us fight the monsters that killed your husband…"

Justice came to stand at his side and Aura's eyes widened once again. "With your permission, my lady, I would like to see these monsters killed. Once that is done, I will leave this body and return it to you so that you might finally grieve," Justice said, his voice grave.

Aura was still in shock. "I – I don't." She shook her head. "This is too much." She started to sob, and Rafael took her in his arms.

"He was a good man, Aura. I don't like this anymore than you; he was my friend, you know that. But Kristoff would want to stop the darkspawn  _no matter what_. I think…" He swallowed hard. "I think that, as horrible as it is, he would want this," he very reluctantly said. "Justice will help us fight the darkspawn; will avenge his death." He sighed. "We  _need_  all the help we can get."

Justice nodded in thanks.

Aura pulled away wiping at her eyes, and then turned to her dead husband. "You will return his body to me once the monsters have been dealt with?" she shakily inquired, her eyes still wide with shock.

Justice nodded his head. "I will, I swear it; I never meant to cause you distress."

She took a steadying breath. "Then do what you have to, I will wait a little longer for his ashes." She stared into his eyes and then turned back to Rafael. "Perhaps come over for tea some time? I could use a friend," she said quietly.

Rafael nodded. "Of course," he rasped before clearing his throat. "Of course," he said more firmly. "Whatever you need, Aura, I am here for you."

She gave him a thin smile, and then left.

Rafael had wanted nothing more than to go to bed with Max, but there was always something more to do. He had grabbed a cup of tea with the mage, and filled him in on the details of his miserable time in the marsh. Max, in return, had filled him in on everything that had been happening at the Keep: the drinking games, and the revelation of Neri's abusive past, the meeting with the nobles, and the plans for a party to draw out would-be assassins. He had also filled him in on more gossip; Neri and Anders were apparently now less hostile, but still not quite together - much to Maxime's annoyance - but they did now have a pet cat called Ser Pounce-a-lot.

Arietta had welcomed him back, and he had then debriefed her; the news of a 'Mother' had made her frown, and then she had asked for their help in cleaning out the last part of the cellars now that the rubble had been cleared.

And so, instead of being tucked up in bed with Max, Rafael found himself standing outside in the cold with a ginger fur-ball winding in and out of his legs, purring contentedly as Neri and Anders stroked it.

"Who's a good kitty-witty-woo, you are, yes you are," Anders cooed.

Barkspawn dropped down on his front legs playfully, barking to get the cat's attention, his stumpy tail wagging happily. The cat ignored him entirely and began using Rafael's shoe as a scratching post.

"Can you please remove your  _pet_  from my boot?" he huffed.

"Ooooh, who's a grumpy Grey Warden. Come on Ser Pounce-a-lot, let's take you away from the mean man," Anders scooped up the cat, and mock-scowled at Rafael.

Rafael rolled his eyes and Neri giggled.

"Alright, grumps. I need more information. Just saying you were  _in_  the Fade is not enough. What did it look like? What did you see? Did the demons still look like they do when they come through to our world? Did you -"

"Neri. Please, not now. I just - I can't talk about all of  _that_  now. It was completely insane."

"But-"

He glared at her.

"Ugh. Fine."

Justice approached and Rafael's mood immediately soured further. He didn't think he would ever get used to the sight of his old friend looking like  _that_.

"Come to help clear out the pesky darkspawn have you, Justice?" Neri asked cheerfully.

The elf didn't seem to have any problems with the possessed corpse, then again she seemed to be utterly fascinated by the Fade in general.

"I have. I wanted to do something useful, rather than standing around. I am still getting used to this world, so any combat experience is invaluable."

"Must be weird fighting with an actual sword and shield," she said with a slight tilt of her head.

"It is," it admitted. "There is no  _weight_  in the Fade, and this body has limits that did not exist before. It feels sluggish," it said as it rolled its shoulders.

"That would probably be because of all of the rot," Neri said with a crinkled nose. "I wonder if you'll still be able to walk around as a skeleton?" she mused.

"He was my friend; show some fucking respect," Rafael hissed.

"I didn't mean any offence… he's just fascinating is all. I've never heard of a spirit possessing a corpse before. Demons, sure, but an actual spirit? He's still  _Justice_  - he hasn't been corrupted or anything; he's unique as fas as I can tell. We could learn so much!"

Rafael glared at her and Anders chuckled. "Trust you to want to learn from him."

"He's like a walking talking encyclopaedia on the Fade! That is  _so_  cool."

Anders grinned and then turned back to Justice. "And I meant what I said. I can't heal you, so don't get stabbed, burnt, scratched, bitten, decapitated, or poked full of arrows."

"I remember," Justice said with a nod.

Arietta skipped down the steps, but her walk faltered a little when she saw Justice. "Here to help too, are you?" she said with a forced smile.

Justice nodded. "I would like to help, Commander."

The Commander had allowed the spirit to remain to help, but she hadn't been too pleased either. The sooner they dealt with all of the darkspawn the better. And part of that meant clearing out the rest of the cellars.

...

If it was possible, the cellars had been more repulsive on the second visit. The dead things were more rotten, the darkspawn were mangled from fallen rubble, and the smell of death had been strong enough to stick to their clothes and fill their noses. Rafael was certain he'd smell like rotten flesh for weeks to come. Again he had stayed close to the Commander, back to back with her as they danced between targets. His movements had been slower due to his tiredness, but it hardly mattered with the amount of people Arietta had brought down there to help out. Everyone had fought as a cohesive unit. But it was the mages that had been the most impressive. Neri's force magic was incredibly effective at knocking enemies off of their feet or throwing them into walls. She often tossed them onto Anders' icicles or clustered them for one of Max's fireballs, meaning that most enemies were dead before Rafael got close. They had found a dwarven door, as they had hoped, and had sealed it before returning to the surface, and the fresh air.

Rafael let out a relieved sigh as the cool afternoon air washed over him.

"Now to hold court with the nobles. I'll probably be busy the rest of the day," Arietta sighed.

"Be careful with them," he warned her. He knew all too well how easy it was to be betrayed by those you thought you could trust.

"I will," she said with a smile before heading into the Keep.

Olivia suddenly let out a squeal and ran forward, straight into Lenny's arms. He spun her around, grinning brightly; it put a smile on Rafael's face, and his eyes instinctively found Max's and they squeezed each other's hands.

Coline also walked into the yard but immediately stormed off toward the training yard, which left Nathaniel standing awkwardly in the centre of the yard scratching his head. Rafael approached him and the archer swallowed thickly.

"Bonjour," Rafael said curtly.

Nathaniel nodded. "And to you," he replied flatly, waiting to see what Rafael would do next.

"I understand congratulations are in order. Welcome to the Wardens,  _brother_ ," he said with a slight laugh.

Nathaniel relaxed a little. "Thank you. No hard feelings?"

Rafael smiled. "None at all. You almost took down  _three_  Wardens; I was impressed, and more than a little chagrined," he said with a chuckle.

The briefest of smiles crossed Nathaniel's lips. "You're fast on your feet."

"Was that a compliment, Howe?"

"Might have been."

"Hey beardy," Neri's voice rang out, drawing their attention. "Want to help us train the soldiers against  _magic_?" she asked with a mischievous grin. Anders was smirking behind her, still holding that damned cat of his.

Maxime looked to Rafael and he shrugged at the mage. "Fine with me. I wanted to go check on Coline…" Maxime grinned and kissed him on the cheek before heading off with the other mages.

"She... is not in a good mood," Nathaniel said with a frown.

"That much is obvious. What happened?"

"Not my place to say," Nathaniel said, shifting on his feet slightly. "Lenny and I tried to talk with her but after she threatened to bury an arrow in each of us we decided to leave her be."

"A wise decision. She's a damned good shot." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'll see if I can talk to her."

Nathaniel nodded at him and Rafael headed to the training yard where Neri was yelling at the 'maggots' to stand to attention. He chuckled in passing, and headed for Coline.

She loosed arrow after arrow into the practice boards, and he took a deep breath. "Alright, out with it, what happened?"

She sighed, lowering her bow. "My  _father_ ," she spat as she turned to look at him. "It was him all along. He  _murdered_  my mother, he pitted me against my step-mother,  _he_  turned me into the authorities!" she said getting angrier and angrier as the words spilled out. "Charmaine, my step-sister, told me everything. My father is a monster," she said, her voice brittle, her eyes burning with fury.

"Coline…"

Her lip trembled and she stared down at the ground. "Have you ever had a rug pulled out from under you? Held something in your hands only for it to slip through your fingers?  _That_  is how I feel. Everything I knew, everything I believed, was a lie! I murdered my step-mother because of that  _bâtard_! He sold me out. I was on death row and he did  _nothing_." She loosed another arrow, and another, as the silence dragged on. He gripped her shoulder and pushed her bow down. She turned to face him, and began to sob. "I can't…" she said shakily and then looked up at him. "How can this be real?"

He pulled her into a hug. "Coline, as someone who very recently spent some time in the Fade, I can assure you this is the real world, and if it isn't, then it's a damned sight better than that one." He knew she had control issues; she needed something to anchor onto, and with Tamsin dead…"What do you plan to do?"

She pulled back from the hug, her face set hard. "I am going to kill that bâtard. Plotting my revenge is the only thing I have right now," she said with a frown. "He  _will_ die," she vowed.

"You can't just leave the Wardens though."

"I won't need to. He's coming to me, to Fergus Cousland's wedding in a few months."

Rafael raised both his eyebrows in surprise. "I don't think the queen will appreciate you  _assassinating_  someone at her brother's wedding…"

"I will do it discreetly," she growled, turning sharply back to the target board; she yanked out her arrows, and lifted her bow once more.

Rafael sighed. "Alright, Coline, if that's what you need to do, then do it; just let the Commander know what you plan first?"

She nodded, and then went back to firing off more arrows.

"Hey, fisty boy!" Neri shouted from across the yard.

He turned to look at the elf, an eyebrow raised inquisitively. "Was that directed at me?"

"Yes, get over here!" she said with a cheeky grin. Maxime and Anders were both stifling giggles.

"That is not my name," he said as he walked forward.

"Well, you answered to it, so I guess it must be," she said with a wink.

He sighed. "You know, I am technically a higher rank than you; I could punish you for insubordination," he said with a slight smile.

Her eyes and grin widened. "I might enjoy that too much."

Rafael was momentarily stunned, and Maxime burst out laughing, so he shot the mage a glare. "I don't know what you're laughing at,  _Fuzzy,"_  he said with a smirk.

Maxime gasped dramatically. "That was one time!"

Neri snorted. "I don't think I want to know."

"Ohh, but I do," Anders said laughing still.

Rafael shook his head. "What did you call me over here for, short stuff?"

"Oh yeah! I wanted to give the soldiers a little demonstration, just you and me," she said playfully, with a wiggle of her brows.

Rafael glanced at the soldiers watching their exchange uncomfortably. "A lesson?"

"Yep." She grinned brightly.

"If this is just an excuse to throw me around…"

Her eyes darkened. "As much as I'd like to throw you around, Curls, I was thinking about using my daggers, instead," she said as she twirled a silver dagger in her hand.

"You can fight with that?" he blurted.

Maxime cracked up again. "Did you think she used it to peel apples? Cut her nails? Carve meat?

"Pick her teeth? Trim her bangs?" Anders added with a smirk.

"Alright, enough! I've just never seen her fight with anything but a staff, that's all." He ran a hand over his jaw. "Very well,  _Freckles,_ let's do this."

She grinned; both Anders and Maxime took a few steps back, smiling ear to ear as well.

They squared off against one another.

"Run at me," she ordered.

He gripped his dagger and ran forward; his foot hit the ground and he was suddenly sliding across the mud, a gargled scream sailing past his lips. He came to an abrupt halt with Neri's dagger at his neck.

"Dead," she said with a victorious grin.

With his feet firmly back on the ground he straightened his armour, trying to compose himself once more, the soldiers were all still in awe and Anders and Maxime were laughing.

He cleared his throat. "That was… unexpected."

She beamed at him. "That's the point, stupid." She turned to look at her students. "How would you defend against something like that?"

"Templars could!" a boy shouted.

"Or another mage," another called out.

"What about an archer?" a scrawny soldier asked.

"All  _could_  work," she admitted. "But none of you maggots are any of those things." She faced Rafael again. "You have to use my magic  _against_  me," she said with a knowing look.

Rafael frowned, and then realised what she meant.

He ran at her again, this time when she pulled him to her, he flashed his dagger up in front of him. "Dead," he said with his dagger hovering over her heart, before she could raise her own blade.

She bowed, and the students all cheered.

She turned to them. "That will always be a mage's weakness: their focus. Catch them off-guard or move faster than they can and they'll fall like any other," she explained. "Same goes for magical darkspawn, even ones that can throw you into the fucking Fade," she added with a slight smirk to Rafael.

"Neri, there was no stopping that spell - you didn't  _see_  it."

"Well, if you just explained it to me some more..."

"Not now," he growled.

She heaved a heavy sigh and put her dagger away.

"So, how do you defend against someone using an attack like that on you?" one of the soldiers asked Neri.

A shadow passed over Neri's face and she shook her head. "I don't." She pulled down her shirt and revealed a scar on the side of her breast. "Pulled a hurlock in for the kill, got a chest full of metal, very nearly died," she explained quietly. "The only thing I can do is not use such a risky attack on intelligent enemies, or too often in one fight." She shook her head and then clapped her hands. "Okay, Anders and Maxime are going to shoot ice and lighting at you all now. Do try to avoid dying!" she said merrily.

Rafael snorted and watched from the side-lines.

Maxime was wearing his snug-fitting Grey Warden armour, and his big black boots with the red fur lining. His dark blue eyes were focused but happy as he sent an icicle into a soldier's shield. His long fingers gripped his staff as he twirled it expertly, and he laughed as one of the soldiers fell into the mud with a cry. Watching him was too much. Rafael needed him. Now.

He crept over to Maxime's side. "There is an  _urgent_  matter we need to deal with," he whispered huskily into his ear.

Maxime jumped a little. "Oh?" He started to smirk. "And what would this  _urgent_  matter be?" he said innocently.

"A problem has  _arisen_ , that needs to be  _handled,_ " he growled.

Maxime snickered quietly. "Well, I rather have my hands full at the moment; can it wait, mon amour?" he teased.

Rafael groaned and moved closer to the mage, so his cock pressed against the mage's hip. Maxime immediately reacted, his eyes darkening with desire. "You have a mouth on you, don't you?" Rafael rasped into the mage's ear.

Maxime swallowed thickly. "Well then, we should get that  _sizeable_  problem dealt with," he breathed.

Maxime made his excuses to Neri and Anders, and headed inside with Rafael. They walked, well, sort of ran, up the stairs. Rafael kicked the door shut and pushed Max up against it as his lips savaged his mouth. His tongue swept over his tongue possessively as they quickly stripped one another of their clothes. They backed up toward the bed, and Rafael yanked the mage's undershirt off with a moan.

Max smirked at him as the dark blue eyes roamed up his body, and then he shoved Rafael back onto the bed, making him land with a thud. Max crawled over him, his hot hands sliding up his chest; Rafael groaned, unable to take his eyes off of the mage. Max's talented tongue trailed around the edge of one of Rafael's nipples and he gasped as it suddenly turned from hot to cold.

Maxime grinned sheepishly and shrugged a shoulder. "Don't like it?" he asked quietly.

Rafael growled, "Quite the opposite." He took the mage's lips with his, and Maxime continued to alter the temperature of his tongue. Maxime's long talented fingers roamed down his body and Rafael gasped, back arching as sparks flew across his skin. "Maker!" he cried out.

"Neri and Anders gave me a few  _ideas,"_  Max husked into his ear before sucking on his earlobe.

"Remind me to thank them... later," he breathed.

Maxime chuckled, his hot breath flooding his ear with warmth, and then the mage's hands slid lower, hot and cold fingers wrapping around him firmly.

"You'll be the death of me, Max," he rasped, his body shuddering.

"I hope not!" Max laughed as he kissed his neck, grazing his teeth over the corded muscle. He travelled lower and Rafael hissed as those hot lips closed around him. He had never been this desperate for it, this needy; Max had him begging in no time at all, turning him into a panting groaning mess, completely at the mage's mercy.

"Fuck  _me_  today," Rafael said almost on a whisper.

Maxime looked shocked for a moment, and then slowly prepared him with a small pot of oil. The mage teased him some more, dark eyes savouring every groan and grunt Rafael made as his hands clutched the bed sheets. A pillow was stuffed under his hips, his knees lifted up to his chest and then Max was in him, heat consuming him. They moved together, lost in each other's eyes, lost to the feel of one another.

Rafael found his release first, chanting Max's name over and over, and the mage came next, crying out. Maxime collapsed down onto him and Rafael hugged him close, still breathing hard.

He absentmindedly stroked the man's red hair, his fingers circling his scalp gently. Maxime's breathing began to slow, but Rafael's heart continued to thud in his chest. He needed to say… he wanted to tell him… He  _had_  to.

"I–" the words stuck in his throat.

Maxime looked up at him with his dark blue eyes glistening like the ocean's surface.

He swallowed and tried again. "Max," he breathed. "I love you." The mage's breath hitched, and then he kissed him tenderly, a hand cupping his cheek.

He could feel Max smile against his lips, a moment later he pulled back and grinned at Rafael. "You know what this means, right?" Max said mischievously.

Rafael arched an eyebrow. "What?"

" _I will never love anyone ever again, Max. The day I do, is the day I try your 'special brew'_ ," Maxime said, quoting Rafael from many, many years ago.

Rafael's mouth fell open. "I cannot believe you remembered that!"

"Of  _course_  I did! I made a vow that day, to make me your exception, your rule breaker," he luridly said. "And I just really wanted you to try my brew…" He grinned broadly, his eyes dancing smugly.

Rafael groaned. "Your memory is unfairly good. I'll try your damned brew, but not right now. In the morning? After everything… I just want to sleep with you at my side," he said gently.

Maxime chuckled, and then lay back down; they fell asleep together almost instantly.


	32. Highs and Lows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Off until the New Year now. Sorry about the cliffhanger, apparently I enjoy torturing my readers as well as my characters ;)

She awoke with a gasp as she usually did when she had a darkspawn nightmare; they had been more frequent recently, just like they had been during the Blight. She wasn't sure if it was because of the advanced state of the taint in her blood or whether it was because of the nearby darkspawn nest. Either way, it wasn't much fun.

Barkspawn looked up at her and huffed before going back to sleep; he really wasn't a morning dog, and it  _was_  very early. Lately, Neri was often up before dawn; staying in bed once awake with no one but her dog to share it with was not very enjoyable. Of course, she  _could_  share with Anders, she wanted to. But she still maintained that it was better to stay away, to just be friends. It was nice having him back as her friend; it was nice having someone to talk to, someone who understood her. She still hadn't actually told him everything, or Arietta, for that matter. She told herself she was waiting for the right time and place, but in reality she just didn't want to say the words out loud; that would make it all too real.

She bathed quickly, removing some of the dried sweat from her skin and then dressed. She gave Barkspawn a poke and told him to shift his ass, and he rolled off of the bed dramatically, landing on the ground with a thud.

"Enough with the theatrics," she laughed. "You got to sleep in my bed, so consider yourself lucky; I could have put you in the kennel with the other mutts."

Barkspawn let out a groaning noise and got to his feet.

"That's what I thought. Now come on," she said as she opened the door for him.

They headed down to the yard where she knew Arietta would probably be. The Commander was taking a group of Wardens out to the chasm today to investigate the darkspawn breeding ground. With any luck, getting rid of such a thing might help reduce the amount of nightmares Neri and some of the other Wardens were experiencing. But it would be a dangerous quest, and Neri was a little nervous about them all going.

Sure enough, Arietta was checking through her pack; knowing her, it wasn't the first time she had done that either. Neri snuck up behind her with the  _intention_  of making her jump but the rogue could always tell when she was near.

"Don't you dare, Neri," Arietta said firmly, not even bothering to look over her shoulder at her.

Neri sighed. "You're no fun."

Arietta finally looked at her and smiled. "Sorry, dear, would you prefer I pretend that you're not there and fake my fright?"

Neri folded her arms. "That might make me feel a bit better, yes."

Arietta chuckled as she rose to her feet. "You're up early, again. More nightmares?"

Neri nodded. "Like we said, it's probably just the nest..."

Arietta's brow furrowed slightly. "I haven't been having any more trouble than usual. I find it peculiar you'd be more sensitive to it."

"Might be a mage thing?" Neri offered, not quite looking Arietta in the eye.

"I don't think Max has had any problems…"

"So, does this mean I'm in charge?" Neri asked, changing the subject; Arietta frowned slightly and then sighed.

"You  _and_  Rafael are."

Neri rolled her eyes. "Don't you trust me?" she asked cheekily.

"No," came Arietta's blunt reply; Neri gasped, feigning hurt. "You threw a party at my palace when Alistair and I were on our honeymoon."

Neri let out a derisive snort. "It was a  _gathering_."

"Well, half of the Pearl was  _gathered_  in my home!"

Neri grinned impishly and rubbed the back of her neck. "It was Zev's idea…"

"Bollocks it was," Arietta said, her piercing blue eyes boring into Neri's. "You wanted to see how many people you could  _pleasure_  at once with your bloody force magic." Her nose crinkled at the last bit.

Neri burst out laughing. "How in Thedas did you find  _that_  out?"

She pursed her lips, her cheeks blushing ever so slightly. "I went to the Pearl."

Neri's eyes bulged and she smirked. "And how was that?" she asked huskily.

Arietta sighed. "It was a business call."

"It's all business to them," Neri chuckled.

The Commander smiled, shaking her head in exasperation. "We appear to have gone off track…"

"Right! Turns out it's about fifty three."

"What?" Arietta asked, arching a brow slightly.

"The number of people I can pleasure at once."

"Ugh, Neri!"

She giggled, but then smiled sadly at Arietta. "Be careful out there. A darkspawn breeding ground means Broodmothers…"

"I know," Arietta said bleakly. "We're bringing a lot of supplies with us; I'm gonna bring down the entire nest, if I can."

Neri nodded. "I don't envy you going down there. Look after Anders for me?"

"I will." Arietta retied her hair into a messy bun. "I'm surprised you don't mind him coming with me."

"You need a healer." Neri ran a hand through her hair. "And we talked about the Deep Roads… I'm just, I'm not ready to go back in them." In truth, it was because she was extra sensitive to darkspawn now; a nest would probably make her head explode from darkspawn activity.

Arietta squeezed her shoulder. "One day you will have to."

"Yes, I'm aware. Nothing wrong with putting it off for a while though, ey?"

"I suppose not," Arietta chuckled. "You should know… the Wardens have bets on when you and Anders will finally get together."

Neri groaned. "That's not a surprise. Did you join in?"

"Hm?" Arietta said as she busied herself with her pack again.

"Arietta!"

The Commander laughed sheepishly. "Ten sovs, before the end of the week."

" _Ten_!"

Arietta shrugged and smiled coyly. "I've seen you two together."

"I am with Zevran… sort of," Neri objected, folding her arms.

"Yes, and before Zev you were  _sort of_  with Anders."

"Ari…"

Arietta raised her hands. "Alright, I get it; you're in a difficult situation. But would Zev really  _mind_  you sleeping with someone else? Isn't that what you agreed to do?"

"It's more complicated than that."

"Because you love them both?"

"Gah! Don't you have darkspawn to go kill?"

Arietta grinned. "That I do. We might be back by tonight, if we're lucky; we rarely are though." She shouldered her pack and smiled. "And remember, Neri: I don't like to lose."

"You're the  _queen_! Ten sovs is nothing to you."

Arietta laughed. "I still don't like losing, though," she said in sing-song voice as she headed to the gate.

Neri shook her head smiling despite herself. Anders slunk over to her side and grinned at her. "You sure you don't want to come with us to the  _chasm of doom_?" he asked playfully.

"I'm quite certain," she said with a smile.

He craned his head to the side, his eyes filling with concern. "This is because of your Deep Roads near-death experience, right?"

She nodded. "And, well… I'm not a fan of the dark, or spiders. Especially the spiders."

He chuckled. "I still remember that time you woke up with a spider crawling on your face – your scream woke up every single apprentice and even some of the Templars on the floor above."

She glared at him. "They are so creepy. Who needs eight legs anyway? And that many eyes? And their little fangs? Ugh and all that hair…" She shuddered violently, making Anders laugh.

"It was tiny. It was literally the size of my fingernail."

She punched him hard in the shoulder. "It was on my  _face_!"

"Ow," he whined as he rubbed his shoulder.

"Oh shut it, I can't punch for shit."

"I'm very sensitive, you know," he protested.

"Yes, I know," she replied huskily, a smile curving her lips. "You're also a coward," she ribbed. "You sure you'll be okay in the dark?"

He frowned slightly. "I'll keep a ball of light in my hand, maybe I'll set the dwarf's beard on fire and let him run on ahead to light the way."

Neri laughed, and then stopped to look at him more sympathetically. "I  _would_  tell you it won't be so bad…"

"But that would be a lie," he finished almost sadly.

"Yes," she sighed.

" _Can't wait_!" he said sarcastically. "At least I skipped that whole Blackmarsh Fade thing though. That sounds like a total nightmare. The Fade's bad enough when I'm asleep – to be there  _physically_ …"

"I dunno, I would have liked to have seen it. And Justice is absolutely  _fascinating_."

Anders laughed. "You need to stop questioning the poor guy; he looked so confused at dinner last night."

"I have a lot of questions,  _okay_."

"You asked him if he found Aura  _arousing_! I hardly think that's a pressing question to be asking the poor Fade spirit."

"He said he could sense Kristoff's memories; I wanted to know if those gave rise to more  _physical_  reactions…"

"That is so – agh, now I'm thinking about it!" He laughed shaking his head as Neri grinned. "He is a spirit of Justice _not_  Desire _;_  I think you nearly sent him running back to the Fade with that one." She chewed on her lip as she thought about it some more. "Are you actually wondering what sex would be like with him!?"

" _What?_  No!" she exclaimed. "Well, maybe a little."

"Neri!" he laughed.

She giggled, her eyes playful and full of life. "Kidding… mostly." She tilted her head slightly. "Does he have a heartbeat?"

Anders groaned loudly and then covered Ser Pounce's ears. "Don't listen to the dirty elf," he cooed.

She snorted. "You usually like me dirty, Anders." His eyes darkened ever so slightly. "The filthier the better, right?"

"I like  _you_. And I'll have you in whatever way I can," he said seriously, making her eyes widen slightly. "Even if that means we just stay friends."

Guilt twisted in her gut and she took a step toward him. "Anders…"

He cleared his throat and then pulled Pounce out of his pack. "I came over here to ask you to look after Pounce; I don't' want to take him to such a nasty place."

She took the kitten from his arms, nuzzling it softly. "I'll look after Pounce if you look after Arietta." She looked up at him, a sideways smile on her lips. "I don't mind if the smelly dwarf, or stoic archer die," she joked, "and I'm not sure that Justice  _can_  die. But you and Arietta stay safe, you hear?"

He cupped her face, and smiled at her warmly. "The danger's half the fun," he replied tenderly, his fingers ghosting over her cheek. It was something he always said just before he escaped for the  _nth_  time from the Tower after she told him to be careful. She couldn't help the smile that touched her lips.

And then he pulled away and turned toward the gate where the others were now waiting, leaving her bereft of his touch.

"Oh, one more thing," she said quickly, he turned back to face her with a brow arched inquisitively. "Oghren still needs to be punished for telling the others about our magic _thing_ ; be a good dear and prank him for me."

He grinned roguishly, his eyes dancing wickedly. "Did you have anything  _particular_  in mind?"

She snickered slightly, nodding her head. "Do you remember the story Karl told us once, when we were very little?"

"Schleets?" he said as his face lit up at the memory.

Neri grinned and nodded her head.

"This  _will_  be fun." He cackled as he turned around and joined the Wardens about to leave.

Neri headed around the back of the Keep with Pounce in her arms and Barkspawn at her heel. Olivia was running a lesson for some of the new soldiers that Sergeant Maverlies had picked out in order to boost the Keep's armed men. The blonde warrior was facing off against Coline and Lenny in front of a large group that Neri mostly recognised from her own lessons. All three of them fought so gracefully; Neri couldn't help but be a little jealous, she was so inelegant and ungainly compared to them. She was always tripping over her own feet or dropping her weapon, sure she could parry for the most part but her footwork  _still_  needed work even after Zev had spent hours training with her during the Blight, and she sure as fuck couldn't do any of those weird, fancy flourishes all of her companions seemed to know. Not that she really needed any of that when she could crack a skull just by raising her hand.

Olivia shot her a not-quite-glare over her shoulder as Neri passed. Olivia was still so  _off_  with her. She really needed to get over it; Lenny was  _fine_  and didn't seem to mind that he had nearly died, but apparently Olivia knew how to hold a grudge. Neri wished the warrior would just shout at her or punch her or  _something_ ; this silent brooding thing was  _so_  annoying.

She carried on walking through to the gardens at the back of the Keep. Although early still, the day had all the makings of a hot one. The sky was a bright blue and cloudless, whatever haze or fog had settled in the night had already burned off, and the wind was limp and weak. She took a seat under an elm tree; it had become a favourite spot of hers lately due to how peaceful and pretty it was away from the hustle and bustle of everything else.

The tree's trunk split into several thick branches very low to the ground before it spread out into a huge canopy of vivid green leaves above her. It was a shady spot and Pounce seemed to appreciate curling up on the grass; Barkspawn, on the other hand, wanted to play. He brought a thick stick over to her and she tossed it a few times before finally deciding to give chase. She wrestled him to the ground, laughing, and he pinned her on her back and licked her face. She shoved him off, wiping the slobber off of her face with a groan as he bounded around her wagging his rump. She had been worried that he would be lonely after Arietta's mabari, Blossom, died during the Blight, but he didn't seem too bothered, whether that was all just some macho act, she wasn't sure.

He came near and she scratched him behind the ear. "You're a good boy," she whispered softly and he barked happily. Her stomach grumbled and he cocked his head to the side and whined. "Ah, so you're hungry too, yeah?"

He barked again and she sighed and got to her feet. She scooped up the kitten and they all headed inside together. One of the cooks yelled at her for bringing animals into the kitchen, so she apologised and sheepishly grabbed a plate of food before rushing into the dining hall. Most of the new soldiers were eating their breakfast and all cheered as she entered. She grinned and took a seat with a few that she vaguely remembered throwing spells at the day before.

"We were just talking about yah!" a soldier said, he smiled broadly at her. His yellow and black teeth reminded her of a bumblebee's behind.

"Is that so?" she puzzled.

"Yeah, we were debating how many men you could lift up with that force magic stuff of yours," he answered very excitedly.

She grinned wickedly, leaning forward slightly. "And what was your guess?"

"I said ten!" a man with blonde, almost white hair cut in.

"No way, it has to be at least thirty!" the bumblebee-toothed man argued.

Neri peeked down the long table at all of the soldiers present; there were at least fifty men and women. A grin spread across her face as she felt the familiar tingle of the Fade at her fingers.

**0o0**

He had woken some time ago to the ginger mage grinning at him. Maxime had leapt out of bed, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, squealing excitedly about his special bloody brew. Rafael had relented and allowed the mage to go concoct his damn drink while he stayed in bed and waited. But Max had been gone nearly an hour, or close enough that it made no difference. Rafael had bathed, shaved and dressed and still he had not returned.

With a sigh, he left his quarters to look for his lanky other-half. It was typical Max to get distracted or waylaid by something or other. Rafael would probably find him lost in conversation with someone, then the mage would apologise profusely, promising to make it up to him later. It's actually how a lot of their nights together began even though such things weren't necessary. He had accepted long ago that that's who Max was: slightly crazy, easily distracted and extremely enthusiastic about absolutely everything.

It was still fairly early in the day as he made is way down the stairs, and the Keep was already very busy. He decided he'd check the kitchens first; it made the most sense as that had been where Max has intended to go, whether he actually got there or not was the question.

He barely reached the bottom step of the East Wing staircase before he spotted one of the Keep's messengers. She looked a little dazed, lost even, but as soon as she saw him the haze seemed to lift from her eyes and she rushed over to him. "This is for you – I don't…" she frowned slightly. "I don't remember who delivered it, but it's got you name on it, Ser." She handed him a cream envelope and he frowned at her slightly.

"Are you… feeling okay?"

"It's just my head, is all, it hurts. Don't worry about it, Ser. I think I'll go have a sit down now."

He nodded and then ripped the letter open as he walked down the cold stone corridor. He glanced down at its contents, skimming through the words.  _Answers. A fair trade. Incentive._  He frowned, halting his steps as he re-read it, over and over, not willing to believe. He shook the envelope and its remaining contents fell into his palm. The world seemed to spin and slow all at once. His arm reached out to grab the closest wall to stop his fall as he stared down at his palm, at the red hair in it.

_Max._

His knees buckled.

**0o0**

She was already exhausted from lifting them all up, but what had turned into a game of 'how many can you lift?' had quickly turned into a game of 'how long can you hold us up for?' when she successfully lifted every single soldier up off of the ground. And, of course, just letting them hover off of the ground was no fun, so she had been lifting them up and letting them drop – showing off, basically. Her arms were weak and shaking, her legs trembling and sweat was pouring off of her but she was far too stubborn to give up so soon. The soldiers only served to encourage her as they hooted and cheered, laughing loudly when she let them suddenly drop only to lift them back up again.

The doors to the hall flew open then, and Rafael stormed in. She stared at him, not really understanding the emotions flashing across his face; his expression was usually one of control, of calm, a blank mask always hiding his true feelings, except when it came to Max. Rafael's eyes darted around the room frantically. "Max!" he called out, his voice sounding raw and on edge. "Max!" he called again as he ducked into the kitchen, only to re-emerge a moment later.

His desperate gaze landed on Neri; his grey eyes hardened and suddenly he was on her and throwing her back into the wall, his arm at her neck, lifting her off of the ground. Her concentration broke and the soldiers all dropped to the ground as she tried to focus on breathing instead.

"TELL ME!" Rafael roared at her, his voice booming like thunder. His lips twisted harshly, and his eyes darkened venomously. "Tell me how you survived!" he growled, his voice gruff, like boots scraping over broken glass.

She gasped for breath, still not comprehending. Her arms could barely lift to fight him and her legs dangled uselessly below her as his hold on her tightened.

"What?" she croaked out.

He pushed her arm deeper to her throat, tilting her head up higher. She made a gargled noise as she tried to suck in air and talk at the same time.

"Tell me what you did," he snarled, his eyes were narrowed, his brows angled downward sharply, making the scar running through his brow nearly touch the other end of it on his upper cheek.

"Raf – I can't," she breathlessly said, futilely trying to suck in air.

The colour was gone from her face, and she was making the most animalistic gargles as he held her against the wall. But all he could see was Maxime; all he could think about was Maxime. A soldier grabbed his arm but he elbowed him straight in the teeth. The next grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back, but Rafael head butted him. He let out a scream as claws dug into his cheek; that damned cat shrieked as it bit down on his brow but he managed to swat it away. More came, like a surge of water, washing over him, then there were teeth savaging his leg; he screamed, trying to kick off the hound. The men pulled him to the floor and pinned him down and despite his protests he could not shift them.

Neri took a huge swallow of air, tears streaming down her face as she coughed through the swelling of her throat. Rafael was screaming as he struggled against the soldiers pinning him to the floor; Barkspawn was tearing at his leg, but all she could do was stare at him wide-eyed.

Something terrible had happened.

She signalled for them all to get off of him, and they reluctantly backed away, Barkspawn still growling at the rogue. Rafael was on his knees, sobbing into the ground. His muscled frame wracked with sobs, his usually tense shoulders were hunched and stooped. It was only as she truly looked at him then, that she saw the crumpled letter in his hand.

"Rafael?" she whispered in question, still crouched on the floor in front of him.

He slowly lifted his head to her, blood dripping down his face thanks to Pounce's attack, his eyes the colour of ash, and shiny with tears. His lips were turned down, trembling with effort to hold back more sobs. He took a shaky breath, a wheeze through the grief constricting his throat. "Please," he begged hoarsely.

She was staring at him, her tawny eyes flickering across his face, trying to understand him, understand what this was all about, but his words were lost to him. Her agile fingers reached out to squeeze his shoulder tenderly and she tilted her head. "What  _happened_?" she asked in a whisper.

He blinked rapidly, his eyes flashing with a dozen different emotions, all too fast for her to read. He lifted his trembling hand and passed her the crumpled letter; she took it gingerly, and began to read.

_Rafael,_

_It was such a simple task, don't you think? I asked you to learn of Neri's survival. I thought you understood why it was necessary, but apparently those reasons were not enough. My little birds have told me that it was barely brought up in conversation; you let her gloss over it, rather than press, as you should have. Now, sadly, I must press you. Until I get what I want, you shan't get what_ you _want. A fair trade, I think you'll agree. Get me my answers Rafey, or you won't see your darling Max again._

_Oh and, do make sure she explains it for all to hear, like a good boy._

_Not the First Warden (in case you hadn't realised.)_

_P.s please find enclosed my incentive to hurry; the next cut won't be hair._

He watched her read the letter, her eyes confused at first, then wide with realisation, and then flashing angrily. She looked back up at him, a deep frown on her face. He lifted his shaking hand and deposited the hair in her palm. She hissed, her usually warm eyes turning an ash brown as they hardened. She too crumpled the letter and crushed the hair, her knuckles turning white in her silent rage.

He was still on his hands and knees, his body only just coming down from the adrenaline rush; he winced as he shifted his leg, remembering the bite wound from her hound. " _Please_ ," he rasped as more tears pricked his eyes.

"Not the first Warden?" she asked with a scowl, still contemplating the letter's words.

He swallowed thickly, his throat dry, his lips cracked. "He asked me to investigate you; he wanted answers, to save lives," he hoarsely said with a shake of his head, his anger started to return. "But it wasn't him, clearly," he spat bitterly.

She sat back on her haunches. "What made you think it was him in the first place?"

Rafael lowered his head, sighing heavily. "The things he knew mostly; he knew a lot about the Wardens and it had his seal. I had never heard of him sending a letter, but it seemed natural for him to be concerned."

She lifted his chin with her long fingers; his eyes were silvery as she stared into them, with more tears threatening to overflow them. "We'll get him back, Rafael. I swear it." He looked at her numbly. She stood sharply, and yanked him to his feet; he cried out in pain, and she cursed at her carelessness. He leaned on her and she gripped him tight.

"We will get him back," she said again, more resolutely. His eyes hardened, the silver turning to slate as he nodded once. She sat him down at the table, and examined his leg; she groaned at the sight of the bloody tatters his calf had been turned into. "Get the first aid kit," she said to nobody in particular. "And some salt and water, boiled if you can, and I want a bottle of alcohol too, a spirit."

She was good at first aid; she could bandage, suture and apply any number of poultices, balms, salves or elixirs easily. Unlike most mages who had a knack for elemental or healing magics and had thus learnt where their talents were very quickly, Neri had taken a very long time to identify what she could do; which meant she received a lot of injuries from stray fireballs, and others did too. It made sense to learn basic first aid, and later when Albert had beaten her regularly… it had become necessary.

The soldiers returned with the supplies and she got to work on the rogue. He didn't wince or cry out as she cared for him; he was probably in shock, or just numb. She decided she might as well recant her tale now, to all of the soldiers, and some of the cooks and servants that had entered upon hearing the commotion.

She took a deep breath and then glanced up at those sat around the table. "I should have died killing the Archdemon. But I didn't," she said loud enough for all to hear.

"There was a witch in our group, Morrigan. She became my friend, she helped us gather the treaties and win the Landsmeet. And when I found out that the Warden who took the killing blow on the Archdemon would die… she offered me a way out. A way out which I took. I was scared of dying, scared of losing my friends. Maybe that was selfish or cowardly, I don't know. But what's done is done.

"The Ritual was some kind of blood ritual, Morrigan asked me to convince Loghain to sleep with her, to conceive a child with her, a child that would act like a beacon when I killed the Archdemon. Instead of the Old God's soul going into my body and destroying us both it would seek out the unborn babe and create a new life." She pulled the final suture through Rafael's wound.

"Morrigan left after the final battle. I have not seen her since. It was her one condition for saving my life. Beyond that… I know little else. I don't know exactly how the Ritual was performed or how she got any of that to work, but it did, and I am alive because of it. That's it. That's all I know, so if there is someone watching or listening or whatever I hope that answers your bloody questions," she growled. "Now, if you will kindly let our friend go… that would be great."

She sat down hard next to Rafael, squeezing his shaking hand tightly. He gave her a grateful nod and then she leaned her head on his shoulder with a sigh. "What now?" she asked quietly, caressing his hand with her fingers.

His head came to rest on hers and he let out a shaky breath. "We wait," he said miserably.

The soldiers slowly started to disperse, gossiping amongst themselves as Neri sat silently with Rafael, hoping what she had said was enough.

What the two Wardens did not see was the servant who was smiling smugly as they left the room with a slight bounce in their step.


	33. Recruits and Rivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back! 
> 
> Thank you Lys as always for the beta work! 
> 
> Hope everyone had a good New Year too!

Arietta clambered up a big rock in order to get a better look at the chasm before them. Her nose crinkled as a rare gust of wind brought up the putrid chasm air. It was not a smell she would ever get used to; she was pretty sure she'd never get used to killing darkspawn either or venturing into the Deep Roads, but she was the Commander, and she would do her job. She just needed to sort all of this out and then… She sighed. Neri still wouldn't want to take over. There were the Orlesians, of course; Olivia would be a good leader. She shook her head; there was no point thinking so far ahead, not when they didn't know what was waiting for them  _down there_.

"Smells worse than the dwarf," Anders quipped as he pinched his nose.

"It smells better than your pack though; I can smell the cat piss from here, mage," Oghren shot back.

Anders let out a short snort. "Ser Pounce isn't even in there! I left him back at the Keep."

"Must just be you then," Oghren retorted.

Arietta glared at them both, and then wiped the dust that clung to the sweat on her forehead. She looked up at the sun high in the blue sky. For once it was a swelteringly hot day in Amaranthine; she wished it wasn't.

"Alright, let's hope we can clear it out by night fall. I don't want to camp  _in_  there _._ " She nodded at the black bottomless chasm stretching out through the sandy, wilting ground, like an ugly sore left to fester in the landscape. There were a few groans and sighs, but they all trudged down the sandy, barren path together.

Anders let out a small scream. "Was that a  _Schleet_!?" he wailed as he moved to hide behind Nathaniel.

The archer groaned and batted Anders away. "What are you talking about, man?"

"Schleets! Don't you know about them?" he asked frantically. "They pretend to be pants, just lying innocently on the floor. But once you turn your back on them they  _ **strike**_!" he said dramatically, waving his hands around energetically.

Oghren jumped at the last bit and was looking around nervously.

Nathaniel scowled at Anders. "That is the most absurd–"

"They lock around your head," Anders said, interrupting Howe, "and the more you struggle to pull them off, the harder they latch on," he said, leaning closer to the skittish looking dwarf who had now drawn his axe. "They go for your eyeballs, just suck them right out of their sockets!" He made a slurping noise and the dwarf shuddered violently, gripping his axe so tightly the haft creaked.

"This is just ridiculous," Nathaniel muttered as he moved away from the dwarf and the mage.

Anders lifted his chin defiantly. "They're only found on the surface, and they find mages and dwarves a delicacy because they're always locked away in towers or underground," he asserted. "Didn't you ever learn about them with your fancy education, Howe?" Anders sniped, waving his hands in the noble's face indignantly. "They warned us about them in the Circle," Anders said to the dwarf once more. "Once they eat your eyeballs, they walk away on their unnatural pant legs!"

"Uhh," Oghren looked queasy. "How do we fight them?"

"You don't," Anders said ominously. "That's the most terrifying part; it's impossible to discern them from a normal pair of pants!"

Anders straightened suddenly. "But I'm sure they wouldn't attack a group  _this_  big, right? It's when you're  _alone_  that they attack," he finished, and then he casually continued down the sandy path, stifling a snicker, leaving Oghren alone. The dwarf shuddered and ran to catch up with him on his stumpy legs. Arietta gave Anders a disapproving look, but didn't say anything. She was so used to Neri's practical jokes that something as harmless as that was barely worth her time putting straight. Oghren still shouted at thunder whenever there was a storm, thanks to Neri, even though Arietta had explained time and time again to the dwarf that the thunder wasn't going to hurt him.

They crossed a rickety old bridge, and then walked down a slightly rotted staircase into the chasm. As soon as they reached the bottom she could sense the darkspawn; a small group was close by. They shuffled forward silently, sticking to the shadows that clung to the edges of the sloping tunnel as the darkspawn ambled past them at the bottom of the gradient. To her horror, a hurlock was dragging a female dwarf across the ground as she struggled to free herself. Anders and Justice immediately sprang into action, racing down the hill even before Arietta had moved from her spot in the shadows, stunned as she was at what she knew the monsters planned to do with the female.

The dwarf freed herself, picked up two axes and took out a genlock, just as they all rounded the corner to lend aid. Justice was fighting with righteous fury, lit up a brilliant white as his sword plunged into a hurlock; yellow bolts flew from Anders' fingers and the darkspawn were sent into spasm, perfect for Oghren, Arietta, and the dwarf to finish off. Nathaniel got the final kill: an arrow through a genlock's neck; it gurgled loudly as it fell to the floor dead.

"Well… that was close," the lady dwarf said breathlessly. "For a moment there I thought I was  _really_  about to join the Legion of the Dead," she mused, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

Arietta ran her eyes up and down the dwarf, checking for injury. "Are you alright?" she asked gently.

"I might have cracked a rib, hard to tell; everything hurts. I'm sure they wanted to turn me into a Broodmother. They do that with females, and darkspawn are nothing but predictable."

"Actually, they've become rather  _unpredictable_  recently," Arietta informed the dwarf with a slight grimace.

"Yeah, they're talking now and everything," Anders said lightly.

"They're… what?" the dwarf said in confusion, she shook her head, dismissing their words. "I can't chat for long. I should probably go back…as foolish as that sounds, see if there's anything I can do," she said bleakly.

Arietta looked down the tunnel into the darkness beyond. "What happened?" she prompted softly.

The dwarf explained that her scouting party had been attacked, and that there was something going on in the old dwarven fortress of Kal'Hirol.

"We heard similar things; we're Grey Wardens, here to investigate and deal with the darkspawn here," Arietta explained politely.

The dwarf ginned up at her. "Excellent! With your help clearing out this nest is no longer impossible… merely improbable!"

"Oh and optimist, then," Anders snarked.

She smiled slightly. "I'm Sigrun, by the way."

**…**

Her boots splashed down into something unidentifiable, and she groaned, trying to shake the disgusting gloop from her shoes. She had not missed the Deep Roads, not one bit. She hated the darkness, although Anders and Justice lit the way somewhat; she hated the damp and the heat mixing together to leave her clothes both wet and sticky, she hated the smell: the taint mixing with rotting flesh, sulphur and other noxious fumes, but most of all she hated the discovery of new monsters upon every damned visit. Sigrun had said her goodbyes to a dying member of her Legion, who had informed them about a nest of Broodmothers, and something called the  _Children_. They had fought some grub-like creatures that had chewed on their ankles a bit; she imagined they were more like babies or toddlers rather than Children, and pushed thoughts down of what such creatures might be like as adults.

Sigrun had found the side entrance into Kal'Hirol, and they had made their way through the old dwarven architecture, using its ancient defences to their advantage; the darkspawn had not been very pleased that they had used their traps against them, and they had died roaring in pain.

As was typical for the Deep Roads, things had started to get strange then, with ghostly apparitions appearing before them all. She had encountered similar windows into the past at Soldier's Peak, where Avernus still resided. These ghostly dwarves were trying to rally the casteless to fight for them, to help hold back the tide of evil.

But those apparitions were soon forgotten as they trekked into the heart of the fortress, or perhaps the belly was a more apt description; most of the walls were coated in slime and a spongy, pink, pulsing, fibrous tissue, similar to the ground surrounding the Broodmother she had encountered in the Deep Roads during the Blight.

They treaded carefully down the slippery surface, and out into a clearing. They all stood still then, mouths open, breathing in the putrid air as they watched, stunned, at the scene unfolding before them. The darkspawn were fighting  _each other_. It looked like two warring factions were clashing blades violently. And there was another talking darkspawn with them who informed the others that it was going to find the 'First' before wandering down a tunnel across from them.

"They really  _do_  talk," Sigrun said, completely dumbfounded, her mouth still parted in surprise.

"Yep," Anders said lightly. "At least it makes our jobs easier if they're fighting each other, right?"

"I've never seen this before; why are they fighting?" Sigrun said as her brow knitted together, barely visible due to the helm she wore.

"It's new to us too. I'd be tempted to let them fight a while longer… but I'd rather get out of this place sooner than later," Arietta resigned, walking forward into the cavern to engage the darkspawn.

They cleared out room after room, often having a brief advantage as the darkspawn fought one another until they realised there was a more immediate threat, but by then Arietta had usually buried her dagger in a neck or two.

She kept checking on her companions; for their first excursion into the Deep Roads, they were all handling things quite well. There had only been a few minor injuries so far, which Anders had quickly healed. Anders had made it known, frequently, how disgusting he thought everything down here was, but said no more after she reminded him he could bathe in a nice big tub at the Keep if they got out of here swiftly; he had muttered about preferring to share a tub with a certain elf, and she had chuckled.

Arietta took a deep drink from her canteen. "Let's finish this up as quickly as we can," she said, eyeing them all sympathetically. "I think we're all getting pretty sick of this place."

" _No_ , I was just thinking of setting up my bedroll to take a nap under this charming ceiling, the oozing red stuff really brightens up the place," Anders joked as they carried on down the dank tunnel; the light of his staff shone off of the slimy walls, making her skin crawl.

"You talk a lot, mage. Yet it is never about anything of substance, why is that?" Justice asked, almost in a growl.

Arietta couldn't help but wince as he/it spoke. She could hear the croaking rasp of the dead man's voice underneath the booming ethereal voice of the spirit, and it always sent a shiver down her spine. It would not have been so bad if his voice was human; she could just put a helmet on him and pretend he was… living, but she could never forget what he was when he spoke like that. His appearance didn't help either: the mottled flesh, sunken, white eyes and gaunt, wrinkled skin made her gag every time she saw him.

"Would you prefer I droned on about Tower politics, or herbal recipes for foot fungi? I imagine that will be quite a problem for you soon, actually, you are a walking corpse, after all," Anders snapped back.

"More wasted words," the spirit muttered.

"What exactly do you think is  _substance_ , spirit?" Anders challenged.

"You are free, but your fellow mages are not. You could use your voice to help them," Justice suggested. "Speak out about the injustice they face."

" _Right,_  all this time and nobody ever thought to simply _ask_  the Divine to free the mages from the Chantry and Templar's control.  _That's_  the answer we've been looking for all along!" Anders said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"If enough voices rang out together, people would hear," Justice stated flatly.

"Just because they  _hear_  about something doesn't mean they'll act," Anders bitterly snapped.

Arietta let out a long sigh. "As lovely as this discussion is, can we please just put a sock–"

Her breath left her lungs in a rush as she was tackled to the ground by something. She struggled with it and found herself staring up into the screeching maw of a monstrous creature. Its jaw opened three-ways, each jaw lined with razor sharp teeth, which snapped shut just an inch from her nose. She held it back and tried to roll it off of her, but it wouldn't budge and she couldn't reach the daggers at her back. The others in her group were fighting more of the vile creatures; she could hear their shouts and the sounds of battle. Suddenly, an axe slammed down into the creature's head and it collapsed onto her, dead. She shoved it off, and shuffled back from it, looking around wide-eyed.

Nathaniel gave her his hand, and pulled her up. "I guess those are the Children, then," he mused, his grey eyes full of mirth.

"A pretty good assumption to make," she agreed as she joined her comrades in fighting the vile creatures.

**...**

"The Architect sends many, but does not come himself. He is a  _coward_ ," a distinctly shrill darkspawn voice spoke mockingly from up ahead.

They entered the large chamber, taking in the sight before them: a massive orange golem, in its hand a darkspawn, the one they had seen earlier, and in front of it, another talking darkspawn, grinning smugly up at its captured prize.

"I will kill you, and  _he_  will know that he has failed to destroy The Lost! He will know that the Mother will tear him apart," it angrily said, craning its head slightly as it spoke. The darkspawn gestured, and the golem snapped the darkspawn's spine and ripped it in half causing blood to splatter the ground below it.

The Lost turned to them, looking at them but not quite seeing. "Who? Who comes now? I can feel you, but you are not darkspawn," it said, sounding confused. "What trickery is he planning? You will die, as all who serve the Architect will die. The Mother demands it!" The creature drew its staff and the golem at its side burst into flames and charged.

Arietta's group scattered; Justice and Sigrun went for the emissary while Arietta and the others circled the golem, keeping their distance as they formulated a plan of attack. It was clear that fighting in close range to this creature would be difficult. She had fought rage demons, exploding abominations and fire breathing dragons, but none of those compared to the heat coming off of the golem they were facing now. She could feel her face blistering as she got close, feel the hair on her face getting singed off, even the soles of her boots were sticking to the ground as the leather melted under the heat of the creature. Nothing seemed to slow it down; the ice spells Anders was casting helped a little but it was melting faster than he could cast. Oghren was the bravest of them all, running in to smack the creature with his axe, only to run back again cursing when he got too hot.

Arietta tried again to get around behind it to sink her daggers into a joint or weak spot, but the damned thing was so heavily armoured she wasn't even sure it  _had_  a weak spot. Justice and Sigrun soon killed The Lost and joined them in trying to fight the golem, giving them more breathing room when one of them got too hot. Soon Anders gave up with the ice spells and focused on barriers and enchanting their weapons with ice instead, which meant they could get closer to it without melting quite so much. They took it in turns to rush in while Nathaniel continued to snipe from the safety of the corridor.

She had thought things were going well; they were wearing it down, albeit slowly. But then the creature curled in on itself and bright light emanated from its shell. Arietta was the closest and could feel the heat surge before it exploded outward, and barely had time to warn the others before the blast of fire washed over them all.

She shit the ground hard and the air was sucked out of her lungs, replaced by a dry, burning heat that singed the lining of her throat. But her skin did not burn, her armour did not melt, and once the blast was over she was able to suck air back into her lungs. Slowly, she opened her eyes; they stung but she blinked away the pain. She rose, back to her feet and took in the devastation around her: Oghren was on fire, or his hair was, at least; he was running around screaming as Sigrun tried to pat it out. Justice didn't look to bad, for a corpse, he had obviously ducked into cover in time, Nathaniel too was well. Both her and the archer's eyes, however, landed on the unconscious form of Anders not far away from her.

She ran to the mage's side, her heart pounding in her chest. "What happened!?" she asked, her voice raspy and raw, as she skidded to a stop next to Anders at the same time Nathaniel did.

"He put a barrier over you," Nathaniel said breathlessly. "But not himself."

"Shit," she muttered, and then slowly she turned Anders over onto his back. They both gasped at the sight of the mage before them: the entire right hand side of his body had been roasted by the fire, leaving it blistered and red. "Fuck," she hissed through her teeth, before grabbing the few poultices she had left in her pack. She glanced over her shoulder at the golem still staggering around; it looked weak, close to death now, and Justice and the dwarves were now keeping it distracted.

She managed to get a potion down Anders' throat and his left eye fluttered open. He gave her a small smile before grimacing.

"Shh, don't move," she urged. "You're badly burnt."

He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say and instead lifted his good hand. "I have enough for one spell," he croaked.

"Then heal the worst of it," she begged.

He gave her a feeble shake of his head. "Ice."

Her eyes widened and she glanced at the golem still managing to give her Wardens a run for their money as it swiped and stomped around the oval room. She turned back to the mage, shaking her head. "Anders…"

"I'll be fine; need to kill it," he rasped.

Arietta squeezed her eyes shut; Neri was going to freak when she saw him being dragged back looking like this…

She sighed and gave him a reluctant nod of her head. She rose to her feet, daggers drawn." Head shot," she ordered; Anders nodded and then Nathaniel helped him sit up enough to aim. Her companions seemed to realise what was happening, Justice crouched down low, hands ready to boost her up, while the dwarves shouted abuse at the golem.

Arietta charged just as Anders cast his spell, she reached Justice, her foot landing in his hands, and then she was soaring upward, racing the ice projectile; it hit the golem square in the head, momentarily freezing it, and she brought her daggers down victoriously, shattering its armoured skull. She kicked off of the creature and landed on the ground with a roll, a second later the golem hit the ground with a thud, finally defeated.

She sheathed her daggers and rushed back to Anders' side; he had passed out again, slumped against Nathaniel's chest. "We need to get him out of here," she informed them all as they gathered around her.

"We still have the nest to deal with," Sigrun reminded her.

Arietta rubbed the back of her neck, nodding. "You're right." She looked down at Nathaniel. "Stay with him. Do what you can with our supplies. This won't take long."


	34. Under The Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Lys! And thank you folks for reading! :D

He  _hated_  sunburn. Every single part of him  _hurt_. His alabaster skin had been baking in the sun  _all_  day, and even with the low evening sun he was  _still_  burning, only now it was heating the backs of his legs instead of his face, shoulders and chest as it had been at the heat of day. He didn't know whether to blush or laugh at the fact he was now the colour of a tomato and stuck wandering along the coastal cliffs in nothing but a loose night shirt. But he supposed it would make an amusing story to tell one day,  _waaay_  in the future, when he wasn't red as blood and scratched up, with sore feet that were blistering on the hot sandy paths.

_They could have given me shoes, and a warmth balm, and a straw hat, and some damned trousers!_

He sighed. He could see the city shimmering in the distance, but he was so  _bloody_  tired. He had been healing his burns for what felt like hours, and soothing his feet and flagging energy with rejuvenation spells, just so he could keep moving, back to Rafael's warm embrace.

Whenever he tried to remember how he had ended up out here, his head throbbed painfully; whatever had taken him had done so before he could even blink, and then he had woken up in some coastal cave with nobody around. It had taken him  _hours_  to walk in the direction he assumed would lead him to the city, along the white beaches, across the rocky wave-cut platforms and finally up a horrible, stony cliff path to the fields above, only to then realise he had been wrong. He had then walked along the coastal cliff in the  _other_  direction until he finally caught sight of Amaranthine glistening in the distance. He wanted to make it to the city before nightfall. Hopefully he could convince someone he was a Grey Warden, and get somewhere to stay for the night. He laughed. He looked half mad; they'd think him some crazy nutter rather than a member of the Order.

He rather liked to think he was a nice mage, a nice person, and not easily angered, or quick to judge. But if this had been some sort of prank or  _tomfoolery_ , he was going to be very,  _very_  angry, and he would not be responsible for any hair that got set on fire because of it. But if not a prank, then he had to wonder, what was it, then? A sinister act meant to kill him? Surely, a slit throat would have been easier. A hostage situation, perhaps? But there were no captors, no bindings, nothing had stopped him leaving. His mind was racing with ideas and possibilities, but at the same time he was exhausted, and couldn't really cling to any of the ideas floating around his head.

He had yet to find anything to drink either, and he knew he was dangerously dehydrated by this point. With a heavy sigh, he headed further inland rather than sticking to the sandy paths. He would never reach the city in his current state; finding water had to be his priority,  _not_  reaching the city. He'd only been able to cast a few ice spells before his strength had failed him; the last ice cube he had sucked on had been several hours ago now.

The stupidest thing about all of this was the fact that he couldn't stop thinking about his special brew. He had been half way through creating the damned drink when whatever had happened to him had happened. The drink would be ruined now. He had been  _so_  looking forward to giving it to Rafael. It was such an extravagant drink, his speciality, and ironically now he couldn't even find any  _water_.

He wondered if Rafael had noticed his absence by now; who was he kidding,  _of course_  he would have. Oh Maker, he'd be worried sick and he probably had the entire Keep out looking for him. He kicked a rock, and then immediately regretted it, forgetting that his feet were bare and sore. What was the point in any of this? Why had he been dragged out here? If this was one of Neri's practical jokes… He knew, in his heart, it wasn't. His memories were being  _blocked_. He was certain of that. He frowned; blood magic could alter one's mind…  _no_ , Neri would never do such a thing. That was absurd! He was absurd for even  _thinking_  it! No, no. This was someone else,  _something_  else.

He just wanted to be back in Rafael's arms. He didn't care about anything else. Just that. Their night together had been  _perfect_. Maker, he had never been so happy! And Rafael was probably thinking the absolute worst had happened to him – by the Lady, every person Rafael had ever loved had died or betrayed him. He  _needed_  to get back to him.

The coastal plains had turned into a kind of dense shrubbery now, but he knew he probably wouldn't find a stream until he found some woodland, and at least if he was under the cover of trees, the sun's effect would be weakened. The temperature was still far too hot for his liking. He was  _ginger_ ; he did  _not_  cope well in the heat. No, he much preferred cold days, snuggled by a fire, wrapped up in his fox-fur coat, preferably with Raf at his side. He looked utterly ridiculous right now in his loose shirt, covered in sweat with his pasty white legs out for all to see. He  _hated_  his legs. They were so long and thin and  _white._  There was no nicely tanned skin like Rafael had; it was either stark white or bright red. He didn't like either shade all that much. And really, having orange hair and red skin just clashed  _awfully_.

Finally he saw trees.

"Oh, but of course! Because that's just what my day needed – to become even more ridiculous!" he cried out as he glared at the brambles barring the way between him and the sheltered woodland beyond. To his left and right the heathland stretched out, covering the landscape in horrible gorse and heather.

"I'm  _not_  going around," he protested stubbornly. He took a deep breath and headed into the thicket.

…

" _Merde! C'est quoi ce bordel que je pensais?"_ he cursed as he clambered through a bramble bush. His legs were now dirty, red and bleeding from all of the cuts up them. His feet were  _ruined_. Why, oh why, had he gone through the brambles? Oh yes, that's why!  _Water_. He could  _hear_  the  _bâtard_  stream, he just couldn't  _see_  it. Running had, admittedly, been a terrible idea, though. Up until that point he had been calmly making his way through the brambles, avoiding the worst of it. Apparently the thought of water trickling over his chapped lips, into his dry mouth and down his sore throat was too good of a thing to waste time with  _walking_.

His head was throbbing painfully now, his vision blurring. He kept looking up to the sky. Gone was the azure blue of mid-afternoon; instead the setting sun had turned the sky a deep blood red – which really was a bit of a piss take considering his current skin colour. There were birds circling above too – or it might have been one bird, he honestly couldn't tell anymore.

"I'm not dead, yet!" he yelled up at them.

He would be though, if he didn't reach water  _fast_.

He pushed through the final thicket of brambles and onto a sandy path; he was so close to the trees now –  _so_  close to water. But his vision blurred, his ears rang, and he barely had time to lift his hands up to protect his face from the fall as he passed out.

…

 _Such an amusing little man._  She had watched him from high in the sky as he walked in completely the wrong direction for hours, had then watched him turn off of the coastal paths into the bramble. He was passed out now. The poor thing was too exhausted to continue. She watched with others like her, except they weren't like her, not at all. They circled to feed, whereas she circled out of curiosity, or perhaps she felt bad for the poor dear. Did she? She wasn't sure. She had her answers. She should simply return to the Depths where she was happiest, where the song was loudest. But she found herself wondering if he would live or die. Not that it made any difference to her, either way. She knew who she wanted, who she needed, and it certainly wasn't  _him_.

**…**

Rafael paced back and forth, back and forth; it was a wonder that the soles of his boots hadn't completely worn away. Neri had sat watching him pace for so long she felt nauseous.

"Sit," she pleaded, rubbing her temples.

His stony stare rested on her and his dark brows lowered in anger. "How can I?" he snarled.

"Simple, you plonk your arse down in that cha—"

"Not what I meant," he snapped.

She sighed. "There is nothing we can do but wait."

"I should be out looking for him!" he yelled, running a hand through his thick curls.

"The soldiers are out searching. Olivia, Lenny, Coline – they are  _all_  out there. They  _will_  find him."

"It's not  _enough_!"

Her patience was wearing thin, not that she ever had much to begin with. "If this mysterious person sends another letter then you need to be here to receive it. And should they want more from me… I need to be here too." She let out a small sigh. "I want to be out there looking for him too, but it's wiser to stay here, and we're the ones in charge while Arietta and the others are out there. We have to think rationally–"

" _Rationally_? I hope you're fucking kidding. If it was Anders missing, would you be thinking fucking rationally?" he spat in her face.

"Probably not," she admitted. "But I know you'd keep me grounded, keep me from doing something dumb. So, please, try to stay calm."

He exhaled and dropped into the chair opposite her desk. "I can't lose him," he whispered.

"And you won't," she promised.

He snorted. "You could have gotten answers out of that girl – out of the messenger."

She frowned and shook her head. "I told you, someone used blood magic on her; only blood magic can undo the memory wipe."

"But you're a—"

" _No_ ," she cut him off. "I'm not. I don't know any of that mind meddling shit; I only know how to control tainted blood. I can't bring that poor girl's memories back, and after you put her in the fucking infirmary, I'm not going near her."

"I thought she was lying," he growled. "How was I to know her memories had been wiped?"

"You should have stopped when she was crying,  _screaming_  – her nose was  _bleeding_  and still you harassed her," Neri bit out.

He rubbed his face. "I'm sorry. I lost it." He looked up at Neri, at the bruising around her neck from where he nearly suffocated her. "I'm sorry for hurting you, too."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "I've been beaten worse than that before," she said with a slight frown. "I was more worried about you – I still am."

Rafael stared down at his lap, his brows knitted together. "I could have killed you – I would have, if it saved Max. He's been gone  _all_  day; the longer he's gone the less chance there is of us finding him alive. I can't-" His voice broke.

She swallowed thickly. "Why don't we go up to the battlements again; watch the roads?"

He sniffed and nodded his head.

"With any luck, Arietta and the others will be back soon too, then they can join the search efforts," she said with a smile.

**…**

" _Fuck_ ," was all he could manage as he tried again to summon a healing spell to fix the worst of the damage to his skin.

"Anders," Arietta said with a shake of her head. "We'll get Max to heal you at the Keep."

He groaned. "I don't want Neri to see me like this. Maker, she is going to  _freak_."

"Heh, worried she won't like you now that you're no longer pretty, mage?" Oghren snickered.

Anders glared at him. "Even like this, I'm still better looking than you, dwarf," he ribbed back.

"We don't have anything left to heal you with. All we can do is get you home," Arietta said sympathetically.

Anders sighed. "That was the last time I ever do something heroic," he grumbled as she helped him back to his feet.

"You were very brave," Sigrun supplied, giving him a smile.

Nathaniel snorted. "Bravery is just another word for foolishness."

"We all know you're a master of foolishness, Howe," Anders snapped. "Today, I think I'll assassinate the Hero Queen of Ferelden! Because that won't go wrong  _at all_ ," he mocked. "She wasn't even at the Keep!" he laughed before wincing in pain.

Nathaniel's stony glare made him shiver despite how hot it was outside. "I had the good sense to stop, to change my mind. You needlessly endangered yourself; the Commander would have been fine."

"Oh yes! I completely forgot that she was  _fire_  proof!" he glibly yelled.

Nathaniel shook his head. "We were all exposed to the same fires and the rest of us were fine–"

"Speak for yourself, Daddy Issues. My flamin' hair was on fire!" Oghren groused.

"I do not have daddy issues, dwarf."

"It was a noble act, risking one's own life to keep another safe," Justice said thoughtfully.

"Aren't your robes supposed to be fireproof, anyways, Anders?" Sigrun asked.

" _Resistant_  – not proof," Anders corrected. "I'd have been worse off if they weren't."

"Still a foolish thing to do," Nathaniel sniped.

"Oh put a sock in it, you're just touchy because were the one stuck carrying me out of there," Anders retorted.

Nathaniel frowned. "I am not  _touchy_."

"Sure you are! You got all flustered when I woke up in your arms."

Nathaniel folded his arms. "No part of me was, at any point,  _flustered_ , mage; I was out of breath from carrying a dead weight."

Anders laughed and the groaned as his burned sides flared with pain.

Arietta cleared her throat. " _If_  you're all quite done squabbling, let us focus on getting back to the Keep." They were still a couple of hours away, and she knew it was going to be a  _very_  long walk with this lot. At least they had destroyed the nest, though. And they had a new Warden recruit in Sigrun. She just hoped Neri wouldn't kill her for letting Anders get hurt…

**…**

"Of all of the idiotic, stupid, dumb, fucking things!" Coline muttered to herself. "Bloody mage -  _move!_ " she cried as she hauled Maxime toward the stream.

 _Why couldn't he have been kidnapped with trousers on?_  His stupid shirt kept riding up revealing his  _unmentionables._

She wiped the sweat from her brow. She could  _see_  the water. "Who passes out next to a stream? You couldn't have stayed conscious for a few more minutes?" she scolded down to the useless mage. "I have half a mind to drown you,  _imbécile_."

She dragged him the final stretch to the stream and splashed water onto his face; he stirred, and his dark blue eyes opened, unfocused and confused. He looked up at her with a frown.

"Coline?" he rasped.

"Shut up and drink," she said, as she cupped some water and trickled it into his mouth. He moaned slightly and rolled over to drink from the stream himself. She watched him, shaking her head and rolling her eyes at his white arse on show for all to see. She yanked down his shirt, cursing under her breath, and he paused his drinking to give her an impish smile.

"Come to rescue me, then?" he asked, once he had quenched his first.

"Don't be ridiculous. I stumbled over your stupid body on the road. Nearly left you there too, but then I thought it would be best to keep the roads clear for traders. And as you are such a heavy lump, it would have been problematic for any lone caravans."

"I knew you cared," he said as he started to giggle.

She pursed her lips. "You are dehydrated; delusional too."

"Nope! You  _like_  me. You  _care_  about me." He moved toward her, still lying on his belly, laughing uncontrollably.

"I do  _not_  care about you or your stupidly red face,  _mage_."

"Oh yes you  _dooooo_ ," he cooed, grinning broadly.

She shook her head, exasperated. "What are you  _doing_  out here, anyway?"

He frowned and slowly sat up; she turned away as he accidentally flashed her  _again_. "I don't remember." He winced slightly and rubbed his head. "I try to think and…"

"Let me guess: it hurts to think about it?"

He nodded.

"Blood magic," they said in unison.

She sighed. "Then let us get you back to the Keep. Can you stand?"

"Uhhh. Sure."

"That's a no, then," she said with a shake of her head.

"Aww, you know me so well, Coline!"

She rolled her eyes. "Drink these," she pulled out some health and lyrium potions and handed them to him. "The Keep is a couple of hours away yet."

"Is Rafael okay?" Maxime asked after he'd downed two bottles.

Coline ran a hand through her violet hair. "He received a letter: you for information. He had to get answers from Neri…"

Maxime sucked in air through his teeth. "He didn't hurt her, did he?"

Coline shrugged. "Roughed her up a bit; she's fine, though. He ended up worse off; her hound savaged his leg and the soldiers all jumped him. Neri stitched him up."

"Merde." Maxime sniffed. "He must be worried sick."

"Then the sooner we get back to the Keep the better," she said with a small smile, rising to her feet. She gave the mage her hand and he took it gratefully. "Lean on me, if you need to," she said softly. "I do not want you flashing me, again."

He chuckled. "Terribly sorry, my lady."

She snorted.

"Thank you," he whispered more seriously. "I thought – well, I knew I was in trouble."

"You realise you passed out about twenty feet from the stream, yes?" she teased.

He groaned. "Can we maybe skip that part out? And the part where I walked for hours in the wrong direction earlier, or the part where I ran through brambles in order to reach the stream…"

She laughed. "Idiot."

He grinned at her. "You  _care_."

"Lies," she chuckled.

Maxime held onto her arm and slowly they headed back toward the Keep; back toward Rafael.

**…**

"I brought you a hot chocolate. It's getting cold out," Neri said, as she passed Rafael the mug.

He nodded at her in thanks. "A hot day, a cold night. If he doesn't come home soon…"

Rafael trailed off, leaving his worry plain to see. It was dark now and very cold. If Maxime was stuck outside on his own in just the shirt he had been wearing when he was taken… She sighed and her breath dispersed in front of her in a white puff.

"He'll come back. He's a Warden. He's tougher than he looks."

"And if this person means to harm him? To  _kill_  him?" he said, his voice breaking.

"They got what they wanted; why kill him?" she asked as she scanned the dark horizon again.

"I don't know. It would be my luck, my curse," he muttered.

"Not Max. It won't happen with him. You have to believe that, Rafael." She squeezed his shoulder.

"I told him I loved him last night and now he's gone."

"Oh, Raf…"

He let out a quiet sob. "I should have tried his special brew years ago; he would have stayed in bed with me then, he wouldn't have been  _taken_  from me."

"Hun, you know that's not true. Whoever's responsible for this would have found some  _other_  way to take him. You can't be at Max's side all of the time."

"I never should have let him in. I should have known better. I should have stopped any of this from ever happening. If I loved him, I would have forced him away."

Her chest tightened and she took a shaky breath. "It's hard to do that. Trust me. And I'm starting to think that love… love can't be denied. It will always be there. Insistent and unending. Stubborn and unyielding. You can only ignore your heart for so long."

"But if it kept him  _safe_ , the pain would have been worth it. Max is so good, so kind, so full of life. If he's been tortured, hurt… abused… I will never forgive myself. I won't be able to live with that, knowing that–"

"Raf…"

"He deserves better than me. He deserves so much  _more_ —"

"Raf! He's there!"

Rafael hissed and looked over the battlement's wall. Sure enough, Coline and Maxime were walking up the path toward the Keep. His mug fell to the ground and he bolted toward the door.

**…**

They were so close now; Maxime could see the Keep at the top of the hill, illuminated by the full moon. He wanted to break into a run, but knew he was too tired still for that. Instead, he did what he did best. He talked. "So, you're really going to kill your father, just like that?" he asked the archer.

Coline scoffed. "Just like that? No. I am going to plan it meticulously. I am going to corner that son of a bitch, and I am going to tell him that I know what he is, and only once I see the fear in his eyes will I kill that bâtard."

Maxime swallowed thickly. "But he's your  _father_ …"

"He is no father of mine. He is a monster," Coline sharply retorted, her head set high like the conversation was below her.

"It's easy to distance yourself from the idea when you haven't seen the man for years, but once you're face to face—"

"It will be no different, Max," she curtly replied. She picked up her pace up the hill to the Keep. He sighed and jogged to catch up with her, silent the rest of the way.

" _Max!_ " Rafael cried before running into his arms, ignoring his aching leg. His arms wrapped around the taller man and lifted him into the air; he spun him around, both of them grinning and laughing. He plonked him back down and they kissed, hot, needy, desperate. They were both breathless when they pulled away. He stroked Maxime's face, not quite believing he was back in his arms. "Max," he said more softly.

"Miss me?" Maxime said with an impish smile.

Rafael let out a strangled kind of laugh and rested his forehead against Maxime's. "I couldn't breathe without you, Max."

Maxime kissed him again, both of them crying as they held on to one another.

Neri cleared her throat. "Glad you're okay, Max… but what  _happened_  to you?"

The two men pulled a part but still clung to one another. "I don't rightly know. I woke up in a cave with no memory of what happened…"

"I found him passed out in the sand, red as a tomato and severely dehydrated," Coline said with a sigh.

"Who the fuck did this?" Rafael muttered.

"Some kind of blood mage, clearly," Neri said bleakly. Maxime finally looked at her properly, noticing the bruising at her neck; he inhaled sharply and lifted his hand to touch her throat. She pulled back, smiling sadly at him. "It's fine, Max. Don't worry."

He glanced at Rafael who was staring guiltily at the ground and then back to Neri. "My reserves are better now; I can try to heal it a bit if it's causing you any discomfort…"

She shook her head and tucked a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. "It's bruised now, not much you can do. Rafael's leg is giving him some grief, though, heal that."

"That might need to wait," Coline suddenly said, looking down the path at something.

Their eyes all landed on a group of people walking up the path toward the Keep; one person was leaning heavily on another, barely able to walk.

Neri let out a gasp before she bolted down the path.

Anders looked up just as Neri came sprinting down the road toward them. " _Shit_ ," he muttered. He had hoped she would be in bed and that he could grab Maxime for some healing before she saw him…

"Anders!" she cried as she came to a stop in front of him, her eyes wide as they scanned his body, assessing the extent of his injuries.

He gave her a half-smile, mostly because he couldn't move the other half of his face. "I'm okay, love."

"I'd like to see your idea of really fucking bad, then!" she retorted before looking to Arietta who was holding him up with an arm around his waist. " _What_   _happened_?" she growled.

"Inferno golem." Arietta shook her head slightly. "I'll tell you about it later, we need to get him inside."

"Fuck," Neri cursed, as she moved to help him from the other side, trying to avoid all of his burns. He hissed as he draped his arm around her shoulder and limped up the hill.

Maxime, Rafael and Coline came jogging down the path, looking worried. "And I thought my burns were bad!" Maxime cried.

Anders was too weak to ask why Max was burned at all; he felt close to passing out. "Hey, stay with me, okay?" Neri said softly into his ear.

He didn't pay much attention to them helping him inside or to the conversations happening around him. Arietta left his side so he was just with Neri as she helped him up the steps. His eyes were closing… he could barely…

"Don't you dare fall asleep, Anders!" she said as she jabbed him in the ribs; his eyes flew open and he groaned. "Move your feet, love," she gently coaxed.

His heart fluttered in his chest at her endearment and again as she led him to  _her_  room. She helped him down onto her bed and he smiled; it smelled like her: the perfect blend of jasmine, lyrium and spices.

"Finally in your bed, and I'm too tired to do anything," he mumbled.

Her lips twitched into a smile. "I think there will be plenty of  _other_  opportunities for you to sleep in my bed."

He wanted to open his mouth, to ask if that meant… And then she hissed as she looked down at his boot. "This won't be pleasant."

He clenched his jaw. "We avoided taking them off; I was worried…"

Their eyes met and she nodded. "With good reason; it's a melted mess." She chewed on her lip. "I have to remove it, though."

"Do it."

She took a deep breath and gripped the edges of his boot; Anders' hands fisted the bed covers in anticipation. Suddenly, Rafael was at her side, his hand on her shoulder. "Let me," he said softly.

Neri took a shaky breath and nodded at Rafael gratefully before removing her trembling hands from Anders' boot. She stepped back and sat next to Anders; their hands tangled together. She looked at the mage sympathetically as Rafael took her place, his hands on Anders' boot.

"This is going to hurt," Rafael said, before he tugged the boot.

Anders screamed.

When Neri next looked up, the boot was gone, Anders was passed out, and Maxime had entered the room with medical supplies.

"The pain is good," Rafael informed her. "It means he still has nerve endings in his foot."

She cupped Anders' hand with both of hers and kissed his knuckles. "Thank you for getting it off of him," she said quietly. Rafael nodded at her and began slowly removing pieces of leather and material from Anders' severely blistered skin, while Maxime began mixing up some potions at her desk. Anders looked so  _red_ , so blistered, so  _broken_. She could feel the tears in her eyes again and sniffed, trying to will them away.

Maxime began the slow process of healing the worst of Anders' injuries, and Neri and Rafael began smothering the rest of his skin in poultices and balms. With any luck, he would make a full recovery within a few days; except for his eyebrows… those would take much longer to grow back.

Maxime's reserves finally sputtered out, and Rafael half-carried the mage out of the room and off to their bed, leaving Neri alone with the sleeping Anders. He could have  _died,_  and all because she didn't want to go to the Deep Roads. If she had been there, she could have shielded them all from the Golem; she could have crushed it with her magic. Instead, she had avoided the nest like it was the plague.

She was an idiot.

An idiot for not going with them. An idiot for not letting him in. An idiot for trying to ignore her feelings. With a heavy sigh, she stripped out of her clothes and slipped into her night gown, and then curled up next to Anders and promptly fell asleep.


	35. Coming To Blows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Lys! And thank you to everyone reading this, special thanks this week to Riki for her lovely comments and for being mad enough to chat to me ;) 
> 
> Zev is back for a chapter next week you beautiful people! I am buzzing, are you buzzing?

Anders had not watched her sleep since their time in the Tower, and even then he had only seen it a few times when he snuck out of the boy's dormitory and into hers. She was snoring softly, curled up against his side. He had lifted his arm to wrap it around her and was now stroking her soft golden hair. She looked so at peace, so happy when she was asleep; all of her worry lines disappeared, and there was even a slight smile on her lips. He wondered what she was dreaming about; for once, it appeared it wasn't darkspawn, and he was glad for that.

Neri awoke to someone stroking her hair and sighed happily, remembering who she had fallen asleep next to. She opened her eyes and found him staring down at her; the amber was more orange than brown in the early morning light filtering in through her window. She smiled up at him and stretched slightly as a yawn took her.

"How are you feeling?" she asked sleepily.

His lips parted into an affectionate smile and her heart skipped a beat. "Oh fine, being roasted alive isn't painful  _at all_."

She ran her hands over his bared chest, over the still-slightly-red skin; his other hand came to twine with hers over his heart. Her breath hitched slightly at the contact – his hot skin, his gentle touch, his steady heartbeat. She looked up at him and smiled.

"And here I was, about to lather you up again, but I guess you don't need-"

"Ooh! Ahh. It hurts something awful, won't you please lather me up?" he asked, batting his lashes at her.

"Anything for you," she said in a low whisper; she felt his heart beat faster below her fingers and her smile turned into a roguish grin.

His eyes darkened to the colour of cinnamon, and he smiled lopsidedly at her. "I could get used to this," he replied in a low sensual rasp.

She planted soft kisses along his ribs and across his chest. "You know, I wasn't the only one rubbing the balm in last night…" Her lips quirked into a smirk against his skin. "Rafael and Maxime did too," she luridly informed him.

He moaned. "And I missed it?" he groused with a sigh.

She grinned. "I'm sure they'll come back again today…"

He chuckled, that throaty, warm sound she had fallen in love with all of those years ago. They were quiet for a moment, just staring at each other, their fingers intertwined.

"Maker, I've missed you," he breathed as his hand came to cup her face.

A fragile whimper passed over her lips. There was so much weight to his words; she knew he didn't mean he just missed her because he had left the Keep for a day. It was everything; he had spent so much time fleeing the Circle, and so much subsequent time in solitary, and then she had left for the Wardens. And even when together, here at the Keep, she had been so off with him. It was impossible for her to resist him a moment more, she realised. She wanted him,  _needed_  him.

"I love you," she whispered, leaning up to take his lips with hers.

His hand pressed at the nape of her neck, pulling her closer, deepening their kiss. It was soft and sensual, and so, so sweet. Her heart felt like it was swelling, ready to burst out of her chest; it felt like it had been so long since anyone had touched her like this. In reality it had been a few short weeks since Zev had left for Antiva, left for  _her_. She missed him. Maker she missed him. And it didn't help that Anders was actually quite similar to Zev… Both knew how to kiss her in ways that drove her wild, both knew which spot on her ear made her panties drop, both could be gentle while teasing her mercilessly. Where Anders had magic at his disposal, Zevran had  _extremely_  dexterous fingers. And she loved them both, and could deny neither of them. She was in so much trouble.

His fingers slid up the shell of her ear and she moaned. She ran her fingers up his jaw, letting the stubble scratch her long fingers, then she tucked a blond strand of hair behind his ear.

"Never leave me again," she said breathlessly down to him.

"I won't," he swore, his amber eyes burning with fervour. He yelped suddenly and glared down at his foot to the cat nibbling on his toe. "Ah, I won't leave you either, Pounce," he said with a laugh; Neri scooped the kitten up and dropped him down on the bed; he snuggled up between them with a small mew.

She grinned, petting the cat fondly, and then pulled away to get the soothing aloe balm. She scooped some into her palm and he pulled back the covers, giving her access to his entire, very naked, very  _hard_  body.

She groaned.

The sunlight glistened off of his moisturised skin, shining off of the smattering of golden hair on his chest and navel, and illuminated every muscle on his lean, tall frame. The right side of his body was still red and angry, but it looked much better than it had in the night.

Neri got to work, and Anders couldn't pull his eyes away from her. She was only wearing a thin little night gown of dark blue silk with a laced back that barely covered her nimble form. As she knelt next to him, gently massaging the cool balm into his hot skin, the fabric slid up her thighs, revealing her ivory skin. He had to bite his lip to stop from touching her while she worked. She looked so cute, frowning in concentration as she bit down on her soft lips. His mind was racing… she was finally willing to let him in to her life, to  _be_  with him, or at least that's what he assumed the kisses had meant.

She rubbed the balm into his arms, shoulders, down the side of his ribs and across his hip. Her touch was gentle and caring, but as she got lower it became more teasing. Her caresses ghosted his inner thigh, and he shivered. He stared up at her dark eyes; the desire in them sent a fire hotter than the golem's flames coursing through his veins, straight to his cock. Neri smirked at his arousal but continued to lather the balms into his skin, down his legs, all the way to his feet.

There was a knock at the door and Neri turned sharply pulling the covers over Anders, as she called out for them to enter. The door opened, and she smiled warmly as her favourite ginger mage walked in smiling ear to ear.

"Good, you're up! How do you feel?" Maxime asked, and Neri snickered at his choice of words; Anders poked her in the ribs, giving her a mock-scowl.

Anders turned his attention back to the other mage and smiled lazily. "About as well as you might expect," he said softly, his voice still a little husky from her touches.

Maxime smiled knowingly. "I thought I'd come to heal you some more. If at all possible, Arietta wants everyone in the main hall in twenty minutes for a meeting."

Neri craned her head to the side. "This is about your kidnap?" she said to Maxime, and then turning to Anders, "And whatever you discovered at the chasm?"

Maxime nodded. "I believe so, yes."

Neri moved off of the bed to give Maxime better access to her burnt mage.

"Kidnap?" Anders choked out.

Maxime chuckled softly as his hands started to glow. "I'll fill everyone in at the meeting. But suffice it to say, while you were being burned to a crisp, I was as well, in the sun."

Neri snorted. "You did look like a tomato for a while there, but I think Anders wins."

Maxime grinned at her, and then set about properly healing the blond mage. His hands glowed for some time as he healed the blisters and the redness still left; most of it peeled off, revealing new alabaster skin beneath.

"There, it might be a bit sore for a while, but your skin is fully healed."

"Thank you," Anders said earnestly, his eyes shining up at the mage fondly.

Maxime nodded, his lips turned up as he spoke, "I'll leave you both to  _finish up_ ," he said with a sly smile. "See you downstairs," he said with a wave as he exited the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Once Maxime left, Neri wiggled her eyebrows at Anders and he burst out laughing.

"Want me to dress you?" she asked with a smirk.

"You lay your hands on me again and we won't leave this room for half the morning."

She laughed. "Oh, you haven't had a chance to test out your new Grey Warden  _stamina_ , yet. I assure you, it would be more than half the morning, love," she murmured, brown eyes darkening.

He pouted. "Well, that's just cruel. I want to try it out now," he whined.

Neri flashed him a wicked grin. "It will be worth the wait, pet." She winked at him, and then threw him a loose shirt. "Dress," she bade him.

"Yes, mother," he retorted, sticking his tongue out at her. She let out a small moan at the sight of his talented tongue and he chuckled darkly. "So horny; you sure you don't want to fix that?" he asked suggestively.

"You're still naked; of course I'm horny, you fiend, but no, we can't. I know Arietta; she'll drag us down to the main hall naked and by our ears if she has to."

"Ooh!  _Tempting_."

She laughed and threw him his trousers.

They finally dressed and made it to the main hall, where everyone else was already gathered. They both blushed furiously as they entered holding each other's hands.

Arietta looked at their intertwined hands and smiled broadly. "I was just about to come get you myself," she said teasingly. "How do you feel, Anders?"

"Oh you know, about as good as roasted mage sounds!" he laughed.

"Well, you certainly look better than you did," she said with a slight smirk. She looked to everyone. "To business, then." She took a deep breath. "Maxime was, as most of you know by now, kidnapped yesterday. We don't know by whom, but he was taken to a cave in the cliffs, and left to make his own way back to the Keep. We do know what the kidnapper wanted: information, specifically regarding Neri's survival of the Archdemon final blow. I think it's only fair you all hear it from Neri."

"Bah, fine," Neri said with a roll of her eyes.

Neri explained in great detail their travels with the witch, and the eventual ritual Morrigan offered her. "The ritual worked, mostly. I'm alive, at least," she finished bitterly. Arietta made a note to ask her in private what that was all about; did she regret the ritual?

"It's just one thing after another with you, isn't it?" Olivia spat. "First the blood magic, now this twisted blood ritual. What will come next? Are you going to start using mind control on all of us or something?"

"Oh sod off," Neri growled. "You don't know me."

"I don't  _want_  to, but I've seen enough to know the  _type_  of person you are. You'll do whatever it takes to survive; you've proven that multiple times already. You have unleashed this Old God child into the world. The consequences of such a thing could be disastrous. And you don't even care because you and your friends are all alive."

Neri took a step toward the warrior. "We're  _Grey_   _Wardens_ ; we do whatever it takes to stop the darkspawn. That is what I did, and I stand by my decision."

"No, Grey Wardens sacrifice their lives, their futures, their hopes and dreams to fight the darkness, to hold back the tide of evil, to fight the darkspawn and stop Blights." Olivia also took a step forward. "You weren't willing to do that, so you used a loophole, and now you have endangered us all because of your selfishness!"

"It wasn't  _selfishness_ ," Neri snarled, her hands clenching at her sides.

"Neri, Olivia, why don't we cool it for a bit?" Arietta suggested stepping between the two angry women.

"No. She's been glaring at me ever since I refused to drop my barrier so I want to hear it,  _all_  of it," Neri said, scowling at the blonde warrior.

Olivia laughed bitterly. "You want to hear it all, do you? Fine. I don't like you; I don't trust you and I think you're dangerous. The blood magic was bad enough – you  _smiled_  when you killed that ogre, we all saw it. You enjoyed it. It would not surprise me to learn that you were addicted to it. Power corrupts absolutely. One day – maybe it will be the next time you use it, or the time after or ten years from now – but one day you'll go too far, do something unforgiveable with it. Blood magic can  _never_  be harmless or good; it is twisted and evil and it  _will_  corrupt you." Olivia took a deep breath and Neri stood there, glaring at her. "As for this ritual… You should have been willing to sacrifice yourself; you should never have trusted a witch. The Old Gods were powerful, dangerous beings; they were locked a way for a reason! And you've just let one go free. Did you even consider the consequences of such an action? I'm guessing not, you saw a way for you to live and you took it," her lip curled in disgust. "You are nothing but a power hungry coward."

"Oh good, you're done?" Neri said snidely as she glared at the warrior. "We were five Wardens against a  _Blight._ Alistair wasn't even technically a Warden anymore, and Arietta was to be his queen, so three Wardens in reality were able to take that final blow. Riordan and Loghain both died, as I feared they might, which only left me. Was I afraid to die? Yes, of course I was. I admit that quite freely. Death terrifies me and I don't deny that my fears may have played a part in my decision  _but_  they are not the only reasons."

Neri took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders slightly; feeling Anders at her side gave her strength. "Ferelden  _needed_  Alistair and Arietta, not  _one_  of them, it needed both.  _If_  I died reaching the Archdemon one of them would have had to take the final blow – one of them would have died. If one of them had died, the other would not have been fit to rule for a number of reasons. Ferelden would have been plummeted back into civil war. I could not allow them to die, not after they found one another through all of the darkness, not after they worked so hard to save Ferelden, to put her back together again. I also trusted Morrigan; she saved my life once, and I considered her a friend. I questioned her thoroughly about the child that would be created from the ritual and I deemed her trustworthy to care for such a child and to not use them to harm the world in the future. My decision to accept the ritual was not done lightly, and I am living with the consequences of it to this day – but they are  _my_  consequences, nobody else's."

"You don't know that!" Olivia cried. "This  _child_  could be used to destroy the world; you don't know how powerful such a creature could be, or the reasons why the witch even wanted it to begin with."

"You did not do your duty," Justice said. "It is your job as a Warden to defeat the Archdemon; instead you have simply shifted it to another body."

Neri shook her head, frowning. "That's not true. The child won't be tainted or twisted – they'll be a normal kid!"

"With a witch for a mother," Olivia scoffed.

"She did what she thought was right at the time," Rafael said, defending Neri. "That's all we can ask."

"And Neri's right about Morrigan; she's not evil," Arietta said. "I trust her not to use her child for evil; she would know it would only result in the child's death. She would not risk such a thing."

"And what if the child is out of her control? If this Old God too powerful for her to stop, to train or teach? Every Blight ended with the death of a Warden. Every single one. It's the natural way of things – it is  _why_  Grey Wardens are needed, it is our duty," Olivia argued. "But you ignored that and took matters into your own hands. This is why people don't trust our Order!"

" _Vhenan_ ," Lenny said softly, his elven thick; Olivia turned to look at him, her anger dispelling. "Neri e-ended the Blight, she s-saved our lives, her methods may be… unconventional but that is how our Order was f-founded. Centuries ago, a group of men and women decided that they would drink darkspawn blood to s-see if that would help them fight the monsters ravaging their lands, and it  _worked_."

"It isn't the same, Len."

"You are not thinking of how b-beneficial this child could be, of how much we could learn from this child." He cupped her cheek, smiling sympathetically at her. "If you only ever look for the darkness in this world, you will never see the light."

She swallowed thickly then sighed and nodded at her husband before stepping back to his side.

"It's just like the Legion; we used to squabble all of the time," Sigrun chirped. "Except there are less deep stalkers and spiders up here."

"Getting back on track, then…" Arietta sighed.

"Do we know who would want such information?" Maxime asked, looking at them all for ideas.

Neri shook her head as she stepped back to stand with Anders.

"No," Rafael said with a sigh. "At first I believed it was the First Warden, because, well, it made sense. But the second letter states it isn't him, and kidnapping is not something he would stoop to for answers," Rafael answered.

"It wouldn't be Morrigan or Flemeth either, obviously," Neri said, running her hands through her hair. "It has to be someone who knows that I was supposed to die, which can't be many people," she muttered.

"Well, everyone have a think." Arietta sighed, rubbing her forehead. "We should discuss the warring factions of darkspawn at Kal'Hirol; I've never seen anything like it."

"Specifically, who are the Mother and Architect?" Sigrun added.

"This Mother could be a Broodmother." Nathaniel pointed out.

Arietta shuddered. "A sentient one."

"I wonder what she makes of all those jiggling tits," Oghren chuckled, before he looked over his shoulder nervously; Neri smirked as she knew Anders 'schleet' conversation was affecting the gullible dwarf.

"It was her darkspawn responsible for us entering the Fade too. She didn't want us interfering," Rafael remarked.

"And Architects are planners, thinkers, designers… I doubt the name is a coincidence," Coline pointed out.

"So, what is he planning?" Arietta asked quietly.

Silence and lots of worried looks was her answer.

"Okay, let's just focus on what we  _can_  do. Mistress Woolsey has informed me her trading routes are still in disarray. We need those routes safe once more. I went to the chasm, Rafael to the Marsh; Neri, do you want to lead this next one?"

Neri was still brooding. "If you like," she said snippily.

"It shouldn't be difficult to find out whatever is attacking the caravans; try to recover as much as you can." Neri nodded at her. "I think I will hold the party for the nobles soon, as well. So I will need Coline, Rafael and Nathaniel here. Apart from that, you can take whomever you like with you."

"I'll take Max, Sigrun and Lenny. That leaves you with enough warriors and Anders for healing in case you need it too."

"No!" Olivia almost yelled. "You are not going  _anywhere_  with my husband without me present."

Neri smiled at her. "It's my job; it's my call."

" _Salope!_ –"

"Olivia," Lenny sighed. "I will be fine. Please, don't fuss."

She frowned at him and sighed heavily.

"You're not bringing me?" Anders whined.

"You're still healing, love," she gently explained, cupping his face.

"What happened to  _don't leave again_?"

She smirked. "I told you not to leave  _me_ … this is different."

He snorted. "That hardly seems fair."

"I'll be fine," she reassured him.

"That's what  _I_  said, and now I have no eyebrows."

Neri chuckled. "They'll grow back, eventually."

Arietta smiled and nodded her head. "Then set out as soon as you are ready. The rest of us have much to do: I want soldiers trained, Varel mentioned angry common folk; to sate them I am sending soldiers and Wardens out on regular patrols around the countryside. And I want more of this place upgraded. I will get the list to you all within the hour; I will  _not_  have my Keep fall to darkspawn again," she sternly stated. She looked at all eleven of her Wardens and nodded. "If that is everything, you are dismissed."

**…**

"It is as I predicted, then?" he rasped at her. "I told you she would be useful, that her survival would be key to this."

She rolled her eyes. "You  _also_  told me she would be a threat. You had met Wardens like her before, ones that wouldn't understand what you wanted to do, that would only ever see you as a threat. Well, I tried to take care of her for the both of us and we both know how well  _that_  turned out. How was I supposed to know she might be the answer we both seek?"

"You acted too rashly," he scolded, sounding more exasperated than ever. "Even now, we do not know if she is what we need. I need—"

"Her blood. Yes. I am aware, dear. She is coming here. Coming straight to us." She smiled predatorily. "Try not to mess this up. She's a tricky one to deal with."

"Your mistake was underestimating her," the Architect said breathily. "She will not be a problem for my brethren or I."


	36. The Crow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Lys for helping me through a shitty week this week and for your fab beta skills. Love you darling. 
> 
> To everyone reading this beastie - thank you so much, your kudos and comments and bookmarks always put a smile on my face and help me when I am struggling to keep writing this monster. 
> 
> And the long wait for Zev is over! At least for this chapter anyway. ;)

It was an Antivan vintage, full and fruity, just like the woman laughing in his lap: a big-breasted red head, with freckles all over her bronze skin. He took another sip, letting the drink spill a little down his chin as he did so before grabbing the woman's breasts and laughing boisterously. She jiggled them wildly in front of him, squealing in delight when he buried his face between the fleshy mounds, sighing happily.

It had been so long since he had enjoyed the company of a woman – or a man, for that matter, he had never been fussy. He  _had_  been tempted, as one might expect when in the beautiful Antiva City, but his mind always wandered back to a certain elf so very far away. He could not help but wonder if she was with anyone else at this very moment; crying out in ecstasy, perhaps, as they took her, hard and fast, rough, against a wall or over a sturdy desk as they themselves had done so very often. Or would it be soft and gentle? A lover, caring and tender. Perhaps she was doing neither of these things, but instead sat quietly by a roaring fire, reading one of her many books.

He could picture her so clearly, even with his head still in the woman's bosom; her cheeks would be slightly flushed from the fire, her hair golden in the flickering firelight, those brown eyes of hers flecked with gold and green, scanning the pages. A hand would come up to tuck a stray golden strand behind her pointed ear, and she would smile down at the words on the page, one of her half-smiles, tugging up one side of her mouth. He sighed wistfully.

He hoped she was happy, either way. He had not yet received a reply from his letter, so he had no way of knowing such a thing. Relying on ships and other odd means to send such communications was slow and frustrating, but necessary, as he did not want to draw attention to himself or to her. The reason he was here, after all, was to  _help_  her, and he  _would_  get answers. But first, he had to deal with this pesky Crow sent to kill him.

He pulled back from the busty lady, grinning like a drunken fool - which he was not, but that was the point; he was just pretending to be one. He needed them to believe it, to think him vulnerable and unsuspecting. It was not a ploy he used often; the more experienced of the Antivan Crows would know a drunk man from one faking such a thing, but the man sitting in the shadows across the tavern was not an experienced Crow, or even an experienced man; he was young, too young, but they always were in the Crows. For someone so young to have been sent out to kill him…it could only mean one thing: there was an impressive bounty on his head. The young Crows always went after high profile targets, hoping to prove themselves, while the more experienced waited, watched and planned, knowing full well that a large bounty was usually placed on the hardest of targets to kill.

He grabbed the woman's face and kissed her hard and full on the lips; she pulled back, laughing, before she hopped off his lap, giggling with joy. He smacked her ass, grinning madly. And then a man who had been at the bar stormed up to him, face contorted with anger – an excellent display of rage; this man really should be an actor, a good thing that's precisely what Zevran was paying him to be this fine evening.

"You dare kiss my girl!" the man snarled, right in his face, sending spit flying in all directions – such dedication to the role!

"Now, now, friend," Zevran began, raising his hands as he swayed slightly. "There's no need for violence. Did your mother not teach you to share?"

" _Share!?"_  the man raged, his face turning redder and redder by the minute.

"Yes, it means to have a portion of something with another-"

"My girl is not a portion to be dished out like stew, you pezzo di merda!"

Zevran ducked the man's swing, albeit unsteadily, and fell into a table instead. "That is where you are wrong, friend, she is a tasty morsel indeed."

"Figlio di troia!" The man tackled him, knocking him to the ground; a fist cracked against his jaw, and then the man was being removed from his person by the bartender. Zevran spat blood from his mouth with a slight smile; that had been a most convincing show indeed.

"Out! The both of you!" the bartender screamed.

Zevran staggered to his feet, swaying heavily, picked up a drink from the table, guzzled it down and then headed outside, cursing all the way. And in the corner of the room the shadowed Crow got up from his seat and followed most unsubtly – really, did the Crows teach the boy  _nothing_  at all?

Zevran continued to stagger down the street, nearly tripping on the cobblestones as he did so. He could hear the young Crow following close behind; too close, such an amateurish move. The boy was getting cocky, closing in for the kill. He reminded Zevran of his younger self – too bold, too brash - but at least Zevran had the advantage of quiet feet, being an elf; this human's footsteps were far too loud, echoing across the street in the humid night air.

It was as Zevran turned down a side alley that the lad finally made his move, a clumsy lunge with a dagger that Zevran easily side stepped; he grabbed the arm, yanking the boy into him before pinning him up against the wall and disarming him properly.

He tsked at the startled boy. "The Crows are getting sloppy with their teachings," he scolded.

"You're… you're not drunk," the boy said, his voice changing from shock to anger.

Zevran grinned. "Anyone with eyes could have seen so. Alas, you did not use them properly."

"Please, I…"

"Now, now, now. I am no monster, yes? Tell me, who has put such a lovely bounty on my head and you can keep your life, although you might try to change professions. Not an easy task, I would know, but the Crows are a terrible employer."

"I – it's the Quartermaster, Gonzalo. He – he said you were coming for him just as you went for the others. He wants you dead."

"Ah but of course. Poor, poor Gonzalo must be quite worried, no?"

"He is. I don't know where he is though; he went into hiding, a safe house he said. Please believe me, I'm telling the truth."

"I believe you; the Crows would not tell a fledgling such details."

"So… you'll let me go?"

Zevran sighed. "For all the good it will do; they will likely kill you for this failure." He pulled back.

"What do I do now?" the boy asked meekly.

Zevran shook his head. "How should I know? I am not your mother," he snapped. "Go, be off with you, and work on your stealth, you tread too heavily and breathe too loudly; it will be the death of you." The boy looked hurt but he disappeared into the night.

Zevran sighed. That one would be lucky to make it until dawn; nothing to be done about it now, though. He had hunting to do; a target, as it turned out, that he was planning to speak with anyway. With any luck, this Gonzalo would have been the man that knew who hired the charming Crow, Deon. And if he didn't, well, killing him would at least remove the bounty from his head, for a time.

**…**

He may not have known exactly where Gonzalo was hiding, but he knew the Crows well enough to guess where such a location might be. One with a clear view of the surrounding area, one easily defendable, one that nobody would expect the Antivan Crows to use. It had only taken him a few hours to get answers out of one of Gonzalo's servants in the city; from the boy, he'd received a direction that Gonzalo had fled in. Then it had only been a matter of bribing a few people out in the streets, shop owners mostly, and he'd narrowed down the direction some more. Everyone in Antiva was a gossip; to see a heavily armoured man charging through the streets on his steed with an armed guard was not a sight many would miss. Poor Gonzalo had sealed his fate in his panic.

It was still early evening and Zevran had one more thing to do before he went to find Gonzalo. He stared down at the parchment in front of him; Neri's reply had finally arrived.

_Hello from dreary Ferelden,_

_Maker, it's good to hear from you. I… have missed you, so much, Zev._

_Ferelden is a right pain, if I'm honest. I didn't think the darkspawn could be more of a bother, but they're talking now. Yes, you read that right, they bloody well talk. They're smart and dangerous and have outmanoeuvred us on several occasions so far. Many Wardens are dead because of it. What we had thought would be a simple problem to deal with has turned into something far worse. But enough of that; I'm sure Arietta and I will figure things out. We did stop a Blight on our own, after all._

_Pissing off the Crows probably isn't your finest idea though, love. But I trust you to know what you're doing. I hope you will be done with it all soon._ _There are things you don't yet know, amore… I need you to come back to me._

_My heart is yours,_

_N._

His stomach felt oddly tight at reading her words. It was good to hear from her… but all this talk of talking darkspawn made him feel uneasy. He could hardly even picture such a thing, as bizarre of a notion as it was. And her words…  _There are things you don't yet know, amore… I need you to come back to me._  He sighed. He would have no idea what she meant by such a thing until he was back in her arms. He pulled out a blank parchment and began to write his own reply.

**…**

Zevran found himself on the outskirts of the city, hiding behind a tree as he scanned the area. He had sent one final letter to Neri, telling her he would see her soon, and he meant it; he had a ship waiting for him in the harbour, ready to leave at daybreak. He just needed to interrogate this Crow, and then he could leave. He was certain that Gonzalo had the answers he needed; the fact that the man had fled, when all Zevran had done to his fellows was rough them up a little, meant he knew something, something he did not want to tell to anyone.

Zevran snuck forward, through the tall grasses – yet another mistake, it would make his approach much easier. The moonless sky already aided him a great deal; the men were night blind thanks to their torches, and unfortunately for them, Zevran's night sight had always been strong due to his elven blood. He reached the edge of the worn down barn without much difficulty, and then slowly, one by one, he began picking off the guards. A slit throat here, a throwing knife there. Their torches hit the ground, catching on the grass with a whoosh; he slipped passed the flames and onto the roof of the barn. Gonzalo was inside somewhere and would no doubt smell the smoke soon; it was just a matter of waiting for him to make his final mistake.

Zevran did not have to wait long.

Gonzalo peeked out of the barn's door and started shouting at his men to put out the fire; he cursed when there was no reply. Then he wrapped his cloak close to his face and ran through narrowing gap in the flames. Zevran leaped down gracefully and followed silently after him. Gonzalo could barely see a thing in the darkness if his staggered clumsy steps were anything to go by, but Zevran could, not that he needed to particularly: the poor human was panting and swearing as he charged through the fields in blind panic.

The man stopped, catching his breath as he bent over. Zevran whistled and then darted through the grass, circling him, feeding his paranoia; Gonzalo drew his weapon and swirled, scanning the fields.

"Zevran!" he called out. "I know it's you!"

Zevran laughed and then moved silently through the grasses again, smiling as Gonzalo tried to cut through the grass where he had been moments before.

"You questioned the others. I knew it was only a matter of time until you came after me too."

"How very perceptive of you, friend," Zevran called out before darting into the grass again.

"I have no answers for you," Gonzalo said, something in his voice sounded uncertain, a lie then? "I don't know who hired Deon. I – I try to think about it and –" he hissed in pain, gripping his head tightly with his free hand. "Please, Zevran," he begged.

The man's plea gave him pause; he sounded so very scared.

"And I am to believe you at your word?" Zevran asked as he moved silently around his target.

"Yes! Please, torturing me won't get you any answers. I do not remember!" he pleaded again.

"You know, not remembering is very different from not knowing, my friend," Zevran pointed out.

"I – know how it sounds," the man said desperately. "It's at the tip of my tongue but then…" he sighed, exasperated. "You're not the only Crow who wants out of this life, Zevran. The things I have done simply so that the Crows do no kill me... but this, something weird happened when Deon was hired. I can't –" he cried out again, his sword dropping to the ground with a thud as he clutched his head. "Why can't I remember?" he asked, voice breaking.

Zevran watched the man, frowning. He was quite certain Gonzalo was speaking the truth, but he did not understand why the man could not remember such a thing.

"What do you remember?" Zevran asked. "There must be something, a small detail, perhaps?"

"I –" the man grunted again as he wiped his nose and Zevran could smell the blood in the air. "Eyes. They had these eyes…"

"Yes, very good, eyes. People do tend to have those."

"No, those eyes they were so…" he growled his frustration and then gasped. "Caramel, caramel eyes," Gonzalo croaked before he collapsed to the ground.

Zevran's stomach dropped as he realised who had hired Deon. He had been a fool not to suspect her. He cursed and then checked Gonzalo. The man was barely breathing, with a large amount of blood pouring out of his nose. He checked his pulse and found it fleeting, fading, and cursed again.

Suddenly the man's eyes flicked back open, black as the night's sky as his hand grabbed Zevran's wrist with unnatural strength. "You will not interfere, my dear," a voice not belonging to Gonzalo said before a dagger was thrust between his ribs.

Zevran gasped as he stared down at the blade buried in his chest; he yanked it out as he staggered away from Gonzalo, gripping the bloody wound, his fingers already slick with his blood.

He stumbled and fell to his knees, groaning loudly. This was not… he hissed in pain as he tried to get back up.

 _Pissing off the Crows probably isn't your finest idea though, love._  Neri's words echoed around his head.

He could not…

He had to…

Blackness crept in at the edge's of his vision, everything blurring around him.

 _Neri_...

Freckled cheeks lifting with her smirk, brown eyes bright and warm, playful. "What happened to:  _as long as we always come back to each other, mio amore?"_ she teased him. He groaned, feeling his heart shudder; beating too fast, blood gushing through his fingers.

Too much...

No _strength-_

He groaned, collapsing into the grass.

"Ser?" a small voice called out in the darkness.

Zevran groaned again, and suddenly a boy was at his side; the boy who had been sent to kill him, the one he had let go.

The boy cursed as he got a look at all of the blood coating Zevran's armour. "I'm sorry, I followed you. I didn't know what else to do; I don't want to be a Crow anymore, like you."

Zevran chuckled before hissing in pain. "You did well; I did not notice you," he bit out.

"I tried extra hard to be stealthy," the boy said innocently. "I've got a poultice," he said as he rummaged through his pack.

It was a few long minutes before the poultice truly took effect and Zevran was able to breathe once again, albeit shallowly. He squeezed the boy's shoulder. "You have my thanks," he rasped out. "I was surely a dead man had you not followed after me."

The boy smiled brightly and then looked over his shoulder. "The fire is coming this way; we should move. But where do we go?"

"The Docks. I have a ship waiting for me – I must return to Ferelden immediately. You will help me, yes?"

"Of course," the boy said as he helped him to his feet. "We can get away from the Crows together."

"Not an easy thing to do," Zevran chuckled softly. "But I always did like a challenge."

 _I need you to come back to me._  And he would. He would be with her again.

Soon.


	37. Plans Put In Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly! Sorry for totally forgetting to update yesterday. I suck. Feel free to tell me so. And I can't even claim that this chapter makes things better because it's all build up to the next few chapters.. which probs means this is a super boring update. I do apologise! 
> 
> And second: thank you Riki for your always-appreciated comments and ElyssaCousland for beta reading. Love you guys.

Nathaniel straightened the black and silver doublet he was wearing; it had been one of his years ago. In truth, he had been surprised that it still fitted him, as he had filled out quite a bit since his youth, but then he had remembered that it had actually been quite big on him back then – one of the many reasons he had only ever worn it once. Mother had been furious at the seamstress for messing it up, but time had been short and he had ended up wearing it to Lady Esmerelle's fiftieth nameday. It seemed apt that he was wearing it again now as he met with her.

Her servants welcomed him into her rooms and she greeted him with that same shrewd smile she always used – the one that was polite but anything but welcoming.

"Nathaniel, I must say, I am quite surprised to see you here," she said in her usual tight lipped manner, as though she had eaten something particularly foul recently.

He bowed his head, remembering the endless lessons his mother had forced upon him over the years. "I had not thought to find myself here either, my lady," he politely said. She offered him a seat and he took it. "The truth is: I require your help."

Her lips pursed together and those narrow mouse-like eyes of hers watched him carefully. "What with?" she asked as she lifted her cup and sipped some of her tea.

He needed to choose his words carefully with this one. He knew she and his father had been close. "You were always a good friend to my father. I was hoping to call upon that friendship now."

Her eyes narrowed further. "It is true, your father and I were close. I do not make a habit of extending such a friendship to others simply because of shared blood, however."

He nodded. "That is understandable, which is why I am not asking for a favour, but for us to work together, instead."

She let out a small, bitter laugh. "What could we possibly need to work together to achieve?"

He kept his face an emotionless mask, giving nothing away. "The death of the Commander."

Her dark eyes gleamed, but she kept her expression cool and indifferent. "It is my understanding that you attempted such a thing before, and failed miserably."

He had expected that barb. "A mere setback, I assure you. I was rash; I did not think or plan that attack. I won't make that mistake again."

She was watching him very carefully, reading every movement of his body, the tone of his voice… he kept it all neutral, and she tilted her head to the side. "You still plan to assassinate her, then?"

"Yes."

"And yet you are one of her Wardens now; that seems an awfully risky move on your part. I had heard that joining the Wardens could be fatal."

"You heard correct, but I am a Warden only in name. I still had servants at the Keep that I could trust. They altered the Joining Ritual so that there was no chance of death. I am not  _technically_  a Warden."

She seemed to consider this. "You just wanted to get close to the Commander, then?"

He smiled slightly. "She trusts me now. I have her ear, her friendship and her back."

She put her cup of tea down on the table. "It sounds like you need little help to finish the job; why come to me at all?"

"I could kill her, but my family's name has already been tarnished; I do not wish to stain it further.  _You_  would be next in line to become Arlessa of Amaranthine. I would want you as an ally before acting against the Commander so that there are no repercussions for my actions. I also suspect you already have plans in place to assassinate her; I would like to offer my aid to your cause."

"You may prove useful…" she mused. "I must ask, though: why do you want her dead?"

He scoffed. "Is that not obvious? She murdered my entire family; she took my home from me, all of my family's possessions. I have  _nothing_  now. All I can do is avenge them, and try to rebuild my family's name so that it no longer means less than dirt," he said bitterly, his emotions getting the best of him.

That gleam was back in her eyes and this time she smiled ever so slightly. "Very well, Nathaniel. There is much we need to discuss. Do you know when she means to hold the party?"

"Soon. In a few days, I believe."

"Good. I will need you to coordinate with my fellows, tell them the arrangements for the party."

"Of course."

"We will meet again tomorrow at this address." She handed him a note; he read it and nodded. "I am curious, Nathaniel: what does your sister think of this?"

He looked up at her, his mask slipping from his face as his eyes widened. "My – my  _sister?_  She's alive?" he asked incredulously.

She let out a small chuckle. "Why of course. I believe she is living in Amaranthine."

"I had no idea," he admitted, his mind racing.

She rose to her feet and he followed her. "Perhaps it would be worth a visit to her, hmm?"

"I – yes, absolutely." He nodded. "Thank you."

"I will see you soon," she said as she walked him to the door.

"Yes, yes, I look forward to working with you." He dipped his head one last time and exited her room.

His mind was a blur as he left the estate and found himself back outside where his horse awaited him. He stroked her and she whinnied softly. "We need to make a visit to the city before going home, girl," he whispered to her before hopping up into the saddle. She was one of his old horses, one of the few still at the Keep. She was showing her age now, but she still rode beautifully and she seemed to know exactly where he wanted to go; a good thing, as his head was not in the right frame of mind to be thinking very much.

Delilah was alive.

He was not sure why he had thought her dead. Perhaps he had just assumed with the Blight and all of the other deaths in his family… and then when he had heard no news from her,  _of_  her, well, it had just seemed inevitable. He had meant what he had said to Esmerelle; he  _had_  lost everything and a part of him  _did_  want his old life back. But he knew assassinating Arietta would not bring his family back, nor would it bring honour to his family's name. No, he had been right to join the Wardens, and he had been delighted that the Commander trusted him enough to find out Esmerelle's plans. Lying to Esmerelle had been easy, easier than he had thought it would be. But he  _was_  a Warden and he would do his duty. That didn't mean he couldn't take a slight detour first, however.

**…**

"Remember, try to gather as much of the missing cargo as possible; there should be several crates of fine silks–"

" _Fine silks?_ " Neri deadpanned as she leant against Arietta's desk with her arms folded.

"Yes. Mistress Woolsey said–"

"There are people  _dying_  because of darkspawn attacks and some snobby nobles are worried about missing  _silks_? Do I look like a fucking servant?"

Arietta leant back in her chair, smirking slightly at the rough jerkin and leggings Neri wore. "Well…"

Neri gasped and punched her lightly in the arm. "I'll go put my bloody Archdemon armour back on, then!"

"No, no," Arietta said, laughing. "I was joking. It's far too hot out for that."

Neri narrowed her eyes at her. " _If_  I find any stupid cargo, and that's a really big if, because that's the last thing I'll be worrying about, I will store them somewhere safe. But I am  _not_  lugging around silks and other fineries with us."

Arietta nodded with a small smile. "That's acceptable. Thank you, Neri."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

"Bringing Lenny was an  _interesting_  move after Olivia's rant, by the way."

Neri snorted. "That might have been a tad petty… But I  _do_  need a warrior that I trust. And seeing as Olivia and Justice don't like me very much right now…"

"You could have taken Oghren."

Neri smiled. "He'd never forgive me for missing your party; no doubt he's looking forward to the alcohol, and I don't fancy the glares Sigrun would give me for brining him along too."

Arietta chuckled. "Fair enough."

"Just, make sure Anders keeps applying those balms, and if he needs an icy bath he can use my tub, and–"

"Neri," Arietta said gently. "He will be fine. Go and do some work, for once," she teased.

Neri glared at her but her lips were threatening to break into a smile. "Enjoy the paper work, Chestnut. Oh and, don't get killed at your party thing."

"I'll try not to, dear," she said with a smile as the elf walked to the door. "Oh, Neri?" she asked and Neri turned to face her once more. "You seemed to harbour some rather bitter thoughts about the ritual earlier… you also talked about consequences. I was wondering what you meant by all of that."

Neri let out a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of her neck. "Oh, you know… Max getting kidnapped, Rafael nearly killing me, Barkspawn savaging Rafael's leg… Morrigan leaving after the battle – I would have liked to meet the child. Just a bunch of stuff, really."

Arietta watched her for a moment, certain Neri was hiding something from her, but what else was new? "Very well. Good luck finding all of the silks."

Neri rolled her eyes but lingered at the doorway.

"Was there something more?" Arietta asked, craning her head to the side.

"Anders and I… what's your opinion about us?"

Arietta smiled. "Most pleased; I won ten sovs."

Neri burst out laughing. "I'd actually forgotten about that stupid bet." She shook her head. "I still don't know… I wish Zev would reply to my letters. I  _need_  to talk to him."

Arietta nodded thoughtfully. "It can't be easy; you're in love with two people."

Neri chewed on her lip. "I thought I could resist Anders… deny how I felt, but that failed miserably," she laughed. "I just, I just wish Zev was here too, you know?"

"You must miss him."

"I do. I'm worried he's going to get in over his head with the Crows all because of me, and I don't want that. He was  _free_  of them, at least for a time. It just seems so unfair that he's now most likely back on their hit list because he interrogated a bunch of them to find out about Deon."

"Neri, think of everything you did for Anders. Zev loves you, so he's willing to do all of this for you. Don't feel bad for that. Love is not very rational, I'm afraid; it makes us do crazy things."

"I know it does, and it's annoying," she grumbled. "I'll be off then; wouldn't want the darkspawn to run off wearing those fine Orlesian silks!" she mocked as she bowed deeply and exited.

Arietta looked back down at her ever-growing to-do list and sighed. Some things had been completed, but others still needed to be arranged.

_Reinforce outer walls- need to find stronger granite, apparently._

_Reinforce gates- steel, oak beams and new portcullis, add murder holes in wall._

_Change guard patrols (randomise it) – whoever kidnapped Maxime must have known our routines._

~~_Repair and improve armour and weapons – speak to Herren and Wade._ ~~

_~~Organise deliveries from Highever for the common folk.~~  _ _Send thank you to Fergus – and Wedding congrats,_ _a new horse? ~~Cousland heraldry doublet? No, he has three of those already~~. _ _Ask Highever staff what Fergus needs._

~~_Ask Matthew Merton for shipments until trade routes have been secured._ ~~

~~_Have several ballista sent from Denerim._ ~~

_~~Have archer equipment on roof, ready to fire into courtyard in case of attack~~._

_Add barrels of acid, rock/ice, and oil – for dropping on enemies?_

~~_Seek out Sten for Qunari poison – cookies?_ ~~

~~_Add ballista/trebuchet/catapults to outer walls._ ~~

_Start patrols of countryside, use new recruits with a senior Warden to manage darkspawn attacks. (_ _Ongoing.)_

_Finalise party preparations – food, drink, music (singers, musicians, and jesters?)_

_Check on Anders._

It was going to be a long few weeks ahead.

**…**

Neri headed down the corridor toward the Keep's main doors; there was a flash of blonde and suddenly Neri was pinned against the wall.

" _Anything_  happens to my husband out there and I  _will_  kill you," Olivia hissed.

Neri smiled down at her. "You're not a murderer, Olivia."

The warrior let out a bitter sounding laugh. "You don't know me."

"I know your  _type_ ," Neri taunted.

Olivia frowned. "You care about Anders. Love him, even."

Neri growled. "If that is some kind of threat–"

Olivia shook her head and released her grip on her slightly. "It's not." She looked directly at her. "I love Lenny. He is all I have, he is my everything. You know the feeling.  _Please_ , keep him safe out there."

Neri sighed. "Olivia, we'll be fine. Lenny can handle himself and we'll  _all_  be watching each other's backs. You don't need to worry."

Olivia stepped back and nodded, holding back tears. They stared at each other a moment longer, and then Olivia walked off. Neri took a deep breath and headed outside. Lenny, Sigrun, and Max were all waiting by the gate; Rafael was hugging Max, and Oghren looked to be talking with Sigrun, although the female dwarf looked very uninterested in whatever he had to say. Neri noticed Anders too, standing with Barkspawn and Pounce.

She headed over to him with a smile. "Seeing me off, are you?"

He grinned at her. "Seemed only right."

"You  _should_  be resting."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "I'll do that once you're gone, love."

Her heart swelled every time he called her that. "You better. I'm leaving Barkspawn and Pounce here to make sure that you do."

His brows furrowed slightly. "Shouldn't you take your hound with you?"

Barkspawn whined his agreement. "Not this time. Arietta is asking for trouble with this party; I'd rather he stay and protect her, than help me gather silks on off the side of the road."

He chuckled. "Something  _did_  cause those silks to end up on the side of the road, though."

"It's probably darkspawn. I can handle darkspawn, dear."

He nodded. "Just be careful, okay?"

"The danger's half the–" He cut her off with a kiss.

Oghren let out a low whistle and started to laugh; Neri flipped him the bird in response.

She pulled away from Anders, her hands clutching his robes. "I love you, Sparky."

"Love you too, Tingles." They both grinned at one another; it had been years since they had called each other those nicknames. Anders had been famous for using his electricity magic during their experimental youths, and she had been known for using her force magic in  _interesting_  ways.

She gave Pounce a stroke and petted Barkspawn before heading over to the others. "Ready to head off then, everyone?"

"Have fun collecting silks, and good luck finding whatever attacked the caravans," Rafael said. "Sounds like a wild goose chase, to me."

She smiled and ran a hand through her hair. "You might be right, but someone's gotta check it out. And I'm pretty sure this beats getting stuck in the Fade or having to fight an inferno golem."

He snorted. "Quite possibly…or you could face something much, much worse."

She smacked his shoulder. "Don't jinx it before we've even set out, you dolt."

**...**

Nathaniel handed the horse to the stable boy and gave him a silver coin. "I'll need her ready to leave within a few hours, I think." The boy nodded and disappeared off into the stable.

He turned and took in the sights and smells of the city. He hadn't had much of a chance to sightsee when he was here with Coline; she had marched them through the city and up to the Chantry without so much as a glance around. Now, he could enjoy the smells and sounds of his old home. He had spent a lot of time here with his mother and his siblings. They used to go shopping at the market every week to buy new clothes or food. His mother always liked to buy some of her own things from time to time.

He made his way through the crowds. He wasn't sure who to ask about Delilah; he had no idea who would know of her or her whereabouts. Asking a few of the nobles milling about proved fruitless, and the guard didn't know of her either. He was just about to give up when one of the stall vendors nearby waved him over.

"You mentioned Delilah?" the man asked him, scratching his beard thoughtfully.

"That's right, Delilah Howe. Do you know her?"

"Hmm. I know a Delilah; she don't use that name, though."

"Then I doubt it is her," he sighed.

"She looks like you, dark, short hair, the same grey eyes."

"There must be dozens of women with that description here…"

The man chuckled and raised his palms to him. "Up to you, lad. I just thought I'd say something, is all."

"Do you know where she lives, this Delilah that looks like me?"

"Aye, not far from here. She's married to a blacksmith, I think."

That made Nathaniel's stomach twist. All this time his sister had been alive and alone; if she had married in order to stay afloat… He needed to find her.

He hurried through the busy streets, and then he was standing on the corner of the address the merchant had given him, and she was right  _there_ , washing some linens outside. He couldn't believe his eyes. She really was alive. He really hadn't lost everything; he still had her.

His step faltered as he approached. He suddenly found himself uncertain of what to say or do… it had been so long, so much had happened. She looked up then, and their eyes met. Her face broke into a grin and she rose to her feet in a rush.

"Nathaniel!"

He stepped forward, and then she was in his arms – his sister was hugging him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him. " _Delilah_ ," he breathed. "It really is you."

"Oh Nathaniel, it's so good to see you," she said as she pulled back and looked at him. "I remember this doublet," she said with a small smile. "You hated it."

He chuckled. "I did, but it was the only one still at the Keep." He clasped her hands with his. "I know times must have been hard; let me help you now. Come back to the Keep with me. Come  _home,_  sister."

She looked at him sympathetically. "Oh Nathaniel," she laughed lightly. "I haven't considered the Keep home for a long while now. Father… ruined it for me. I am happy here; I adore my husband, brother. I'm not going anywhere."

He was momentarily stunned. "You… do?"

"Yes, I really do. I've never been happier. I'm away from all of that darkness now."

He frowned slightly. Even after everything Arietta had told him… even after he had heard the stories, he had not truly believed, had not  _wanted_ to. "It's true, then, about father…"

She sighed and then gave him a sad smile. "He was a bad man, Nathaniel, and Thomas… Thomas was not much better. You always adored father, but Thomas always wanted father to love him the most. It drove him to madness in the end. You want the culprit who destroyed our family? It was father, without question."

"Arietta told me a little of it all… I did not want to believe her."

Delilah craned her head to the side. "The Queen of Ferelden? You've  _met_  her?"

He gave his sister a wry smile. "I tried to kill her."

"Oh,  _Nathaniel!_ "

He chuckled. "There is much we should talk about."

She smiled at him, shaking her head slightly. "Agreed. Come inside, brother."

He nodded, grinning despite himself and followed her into her home.

**…**

"Quiet Death is too quick; I don't want him to die instantly," Coline said flatly as she mixed more of the deathroot with the distillation agent.

"Adder's kiss or concentrated Crow venom would stun him… you could do whatever you like to him after that," Rafael replied nonchalantly, as he added some concentrator agent to the mix.

She considered this. "That can paralyse  _too_  effectively sometimes; I want him to feel  _everything_ ," she said darkly.

"Fleshrot  _could_  work; it should just make him sluggish… Something like a shock coating on a small blade, just enough to send him into a spasm might also be an option," Rafael offered.

"That could work. There was something I heard about on the streets of Orlais. It was a word of mouth recipe, since most of the street kids didn't know how to write; they called it the Orphan's wish," she said pensively, trying to recall some of the ingredients.

Rafael burst out laughing; such a rare sound for the rogue to make, she stared at him slightly startled. "Holy shit!" he gasped out.

"What?" She frowned at him.

"I  _invented_  that!"

"No!?" she said on a gasp.

"Yeah, the ingredients are pretty rare, but it shouldn't take too long to get them all. It will paralyse him, but he will still feel everything. Sometimes they can still talk too – perfect for getting a confession out of them. Only problem is, they tend to go into shock rather fast, or their heart beats so quickly it just gives out. I had more than a few die of natural causes rather than whatever I had planned for them," he admitted with a shrug, as an errant black curl fell over his eye and he blew it back into place.

"I know a few things to reduce the shock and bring their heart rate down… can you make it for me?" she said smiling sweetly.

"Of course; it was my signature venom back in Orlais, and the reason why the Rouge Marteaus noticed me in the first place," he grinned wickedly, white teeth flashing against his dusky skin.

She craned her head to the side, her tawny gaze assessing. "Is that why the hammer tattoo on your back is dripping venom?"

He arched an eyebrow and smiled wolfishly. "It is. You been checking me out, Coline?"

She tutted. "You wish, Slick."

"You seem to have a thing for black-haired rogues, hm?" he brazenly teased.

Her eyes flicked up to his stormy grey ones and narrowed. "I'm sure I don't know  _what_ you're talking about." She turned her head sharply, pouring the poison into a jar, ready for use.

She could tell he was smiling. "I've seen you blush at his comments, his compliments."

"You know nothing can happen; I can't put myself out there like that, I can't give myself to someone else," she said with a sigh. She just couldn't trust anyone, and she had never had a healthy relationship, a normal one… she didn't know how. She would never be able to share the power in a relationship; she would always want to be in control, calling the shots. It would be entirely one sided.

"I was the same, Vi. Now look at me," he said on a throaty laugh.

She couldn't help the smile on her lips. She had never seen him this happy; she knew it was because he was openly in a relationship with the silly mage. "I want to be able to… I just can't," she sadly admitted.

He squeezed her shoulder. "Neri went through some terrible things in the Circle, but she's found love  _twice_  since leaving that life behind. Let go of your past, and maybe you can finally move forward," he advised.

She nodded, contemplating his words.

"First things first, though," Rafael said looking back at their poisons. "Once he is paralysed, what will you do with him?" he asked curiously.

Coline smirked. "I have a few ideas."

He chuckled. "I was a mercenary; I had to beat information out of a lot of people, so if you need any help…"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You didn't seem keen on my plans the other day; why the change of mind now?"

"I would have killed Neri if that letter had asked me to. There's nothing I wouldn't do for that man. And if he had been hurt… there is nothing in Thedas that could have stopped me from murdering the son of a bitch responsible. More than that… Percy has been on my mind lately, with this party that Arietta is planning. He  _betrayed_  me. Back at the beginning, when I first joined the Wardens after all of that, I dreamt of killing him a million different ways for what he did to me. Your father fucked you over, so if you want to take him out, I'll help. I also owe you for finding and saving Max... I know you don't want credit or anything; you keep brushing it off like it was nothing, but it wasn't, Coline. He would be dead if you hadn't found him."

She blushed slightly and cleared her throat.

"So I'll help you with this. You do, however, need to inform the Commander still, and you mustn't ruin Fergus' wedding."

She snorted. "Very well."

**…**

Nathaniel returned to the Keep, still smiling; his sister was with child and  _happy_. He had never seen her like that; how had he never realised that most of her smiles as they were growing up were put on or faked just so that mother and father were happy? Had he been so blind to it all?

He led the horse into the inner yard, and a stable boy came to take care of her. He noticed Rafael and Coline standing at a work bench making poisons and smiled slightly. He had been curious from the start how Coline had ended up a Grey Warden; she did not seem the type to enjoy killing darkspawn, not that anyone every really enjoyed it. But then he had heard about her life, about all of the horrible things she had endured, and he had seen her in a new light ever since. She was strong and independent and beautiful, and he couldn't help but admire her.

He gave them a small nod in passing, and noticed Rafael snickering quietly; Coline then jabbed him in the ribs and blushed crimson. He frowned slightly, wondering what that was all about, before heading into the Keep to speak with Arietta.

He found her door open, and stepped in. "You were right, you know," he said, surprising her slightly. "About my father, I mean."

She frowned and sat back in her chair. "If my words were not enough to convince you, whose were?"

"Delilah's."

Her brows arched in surprise. "Your sister?"

He nodded and stepped further into the room. "She is alive. I spoke with her."

Arietta smiled. "I had assumed she was… what made you think she wasn't?"

"I just assumed with the Blight…" He shook his head. "I have been an idiot. The things she told me about father and Thomas… I finally believe it. I don't like it, but I know it as truth. I wanted to apologise to you. I'm glad I didn't kill you, Commander."

Arietta chuckled. "You never would have been able to anyway," she teased, her blue eyes playful.

He smiled. "Don't be so certain of that. Hubris was my father's undoing."

"One day, we'll have to see who is better in a fight between us, then. Settle it once and for all."

"I wouldn't want to show you up in front of everyone else, Commander."

She laughed. "Now who's getting cocky?"

He chuckled. "I mean it though; I cannot thank you enough for giving me a second chance."

"You're very welcome, Nathaniel. Speaking of…"

"Ah yes. Lady Esmerelle has plans; she has asked me to meet with her again tomorrow."

"Good, thank you for meeting with her. Go to the next meeting, learn all that you can and then we will begin preparations. I will hold the party the day after."

He nodded. "She will want specific details."

"Then you must give them to her," she said with a small smile.

Coline cleared her throat from the doorway, looking a little red. "Commander?" she asked apprehensively, as she tried to ignore Nathaniel's intense stare. He was wearing that gorgeous satin doublet, the black one with silver silk thread, and knee high onyx boots, with his hair pulled back in that ponytail he seemed to favour. He looked every part the noble, and a lump formed in her throat just from looking at him.

Arietta smiled up at the other archer. "Come in. Nathaniel and I were just finishing up discussing the upcoming party."

"Oh, happening so soon, is it?"

"It certainly seems that way," Nathaniel said with that silky voice of his. Coline mentally cursed Rafael for putting ideas in her head about Nathaniel. It was wildly inappropriate and just plain implausible.

Coline smiled tightly at him, hoping her cheeks wouldn't blush. "Sounds wonderful," she said distractedly, lacing her hands together at her front to stop them from fidgeting.

"Perhaps I should go?" Nathaniel said with a dip of his head to the Commander. He reached Coline and smiled, and her eyes widened slightly; he so rarely smiled, it was breath taking to see him do it in such close proximity. "You look beautiful today, my lady," he said as he lifted her hand and kissed it.

Before she could regain her composure or her senses, he was out the door and gone.

 _Damn him_.

Arietta cleared her throat, smiling in amusement at how affected Coline seemed to be around Nathaniel.

Coline snapped out of it and approached the Commander's desk. "I'd like an invite to your brother's wedding, please."

Arietta narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Why?"

"My  _father_  is going," Coline said icily.

Arietta frowned in confusion. She had heard about Coline's father, but only briefly; she had been so busy recently with paper work. "And?"

"I need to assassinate him."

Arietta nearly fell out of her chair. " _What?_ "

Coline sighed. "You have no doubt heard of… what he did. He cannot be allowed to live."

Arietta leaned forward in her seat, her glare deadly. "Coline. You are a Warden first and foremost. Not an Antivan Crow, not a Guard, not a–"

"I know what I am  _not_. I do not need to be told. I know how this must sound. But he  _must_  die, and it needs to be a surprise; arranging to meet with him won't work, he'll have me killed or just won't show. This is the  _only_  way."

"You are not doing this at my brother's wedding."

"It is the only opportunity I am likely to get–"

Arietta rose from her seat, her face fierce and determined and so very cold. "You will not attend. You will not assassinate anyone. That is the end of this ridiculous discussion. Get out of my office."

"But–"

" _Now_."

Coline clenched her jaw and dipped her head before leaving.

" _Merde,"_  she cursed under her breath.


	38. Warden Detectives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update as an apology for being late last week <3
> 
> Thank you Lys for your-ever-awesome beta work! And to all those throwing kudos at this and reading and commenting. Love you all dearly. And I shall see you all next week!

Neri took a long drink from her canteen. It was so bloody hot out. She was all sweaty and gross; she would kill for a nice icy bath, maybe with a certain blond mage… By the end of this hike it was likely she'd be just as sunburnt as Max. There were no clouds in the sky, not a one. It was weird. She kept scowling up at the sky wondering why it was behaving so out of sorts. Poor Max was getting red  _again_ , although he had the good sense to wear a sun hat this time, and trousers.

"We're quite a diverse group, aren't we?" Sigrun chirped, as she lifted her helm and then wiped her sweaty brow.

Neri arched an eyebrow at the perky dwarf, and then glanced around their group. "I suppose we are." She smiled. "We just need a Qunari, and maybe a few people from further north or something."

Sigrun nodded her head enthusiastically. "I don't suppose you know any Qunari or northerners?"

Neri chuckled. "I do, actually. Travelled with a Qunari during the Blight; he was quite a character. I have a lover from Antiva and I met a Rivaini pirate with him in Denerim not long ago; she was  _very_  nice." She chuckled.

"I've never seen a Qunari or a pirate before; in fact you and Lenny are the first elves I've met, too," Sigrun gushed with a grin.

Neri laughed airily. "And are we everything you thought our race would be?"

"Your ears are a lot larger than I had pictured them," Sigrun honestly responded.

Neri chuckled and even Lenny smiled slightly.

"Do they make hearing easier?" the dwarf inquired inquisitively.

"Yes," Lenny said, sounding a little exasperated. "I-I've heard many things I wish I hadn't."

"Oh, like what?" Sigrun asked, looking up at him.

Lenny smiled, shaking his head. "Not m-my secrets to tell."

"I suppose that's fair. Do they have any other uses?"

"Well… they're very  _sensitive_ ," Neri said with an impish grin.

"Oh, so they get cold easily?" Sigrun asked.

Lenny and Neri shared a look; he started to blush and she snickered quietly.

"Yes, cold, very cold," Neri said as she tried not to laugh.

"Have you ever knitted something for them, like ear-mittens?" Sigrun asked in her sweet little voice. She was so cute, Neri just wanted to squeeze her chubby little cheeks; she didn't fancy the axe she'd get to the face for doing that, though.

"Ear-mittens? No, I can't say I have," Neri said on a chuckle.

"I think you'd look cute with some fluffy mittens on your ears. Oh, you could have different colours for different outfits!"

"Surely socks would work?" Lenny quietly suggested.

"Now that would just look ridiculous," Sigrun deadpanned.

Neri laughed, and Lenny's cheeks flushed a brighter shade of red before he went quiet again.

Neri's eyes landed on the bearded man walking quietly behind them, lost in thought. "You okay, Max?" she asked worriedly, falling back into stride with him.

"Yeah, sorry; I'm fine, Neri." He smiled at her, his dark blue eyes glistening in the afternoon sunshine. "I'm still thinking over everything that happened yesterday…"

"Hmm. Quite the conundrum, isn't it?" she chirped.

He nodded his head. "I just cannot wrap my head around it all," he said as his features dulled into a frown.

"Well, maybe we'll never hear from them again. If we do, we'll handle it," she reassured him as she rubbed his arm.

"I know. It's just disturbing." He sighed heavily.

"Come on, today will be fun. We get to solve a mystery!" She hooked her arm through his, and looked around and grinned. " _I_  think the mysterious caravan attacks have been caused by a blind old bear in  _desperate_  search for his long lost love! He keeps mistaking the caravans for his mate," she gleefully said. Maxime burst out laughing. She looked up at him and smiled crookedly. "What do  _you_  think the cause is, Detective Maxime?"

He grinned. "Clearly it's a pack of wolves, led by a semi-sentient werewolf. They're only attacking the caravans to steal some clothes so they aren't indecent any longer," he said dramatically.

"Bah! I've had enough of talking werewolves to last me a lifetime. Actually, I've had enough of all talking creatures, full stop!" She chortled, and then she looked over at the other elf. "Lieutenant Len, what do you think it is?"

He glanced up and shrugged. "Darkspawn?"

She snorted. "It probably is, but for once, I'd like to be surprised," Neri admitted on a bubbly laugh.

"Careful what you wish for, you might get a herd of randy brontos instead," Sigrun added cheerfully.

"Maker, I hope not," Maxime groaned.

"Bad experience?" Neri queried, staring up at him with a smirk.

"Is there ever a good experience with the damned things?" he retorted with a weary smile.

"Good point."

**…**

"Who  _wears_  this stuff?" Neri said with a crinkle of her nose, holding up some polka dot silk undergarments.

"Oh, Neri, you have no idea, do you?" Maxime laughed. "Orlais is full of weird and wonderful things. The nobles will wear anything to stay fashionable."

Neri looked at him expectantly.

"What?" he said with a frown.

"That's it? No elaborate story or rant about some of the crazy things you saw in Orlais?"

Maxime snorted. "Not this time, no."

"Wow, Max, are you sure you're fully recovered from yesterday? Do you need to sit down?" she said with a teasing smile.

He laughed and shook his head. "Well, it's not like I went to a lot of elaborate balls or anything, and the Deep Roads didn't exactly have a lot of the latest fashion trends on display either."

"No? You've never seen a darkspawn in a fine silk dress, then?"

"Maker, I have enough nightmares as is… I don't need more."

She chuckled. "I had a nightmare during the Blight about a darkspawn tea party – they were all in frilly dresses and they were slowly eating me alive." She shuddered. "I promised myself not to eat cheese before bed after that one."

"Yeah… I don't blame you. The weirdest darkspawn dream I had involved me being chased by a load of darkspawn that all had Rafael's head on them. He kept shouting at me in that gravelly voice of his to get back here and play with his fiddle. Suffice it to say, dream me has never run faster," he laughed.

She snickered and then cleared her throat. "Come on, we should meet back up with the others and see who's gathered the most silks."

"I doubt it's us, we've been talking the entire time!"

She grinned at him. "I feel  _terrible_  for the poor nobles for losing their precious polka dot undergarments."

**…**

"I'm rubbish at talking to the Dalish. You'd think I'd be at least a bit decent at it, considering we're the same race, but they might as well be from another world; we're so different," Neri muttered as they headed deeper into the woods.

"A crazy Dalish elf still beats rampaging brontos any day," Max said with a laugh.

"That's debateable," Neri sighed. "She ran off before we could even properly talk to her. Now we have to traipse around in the heat looking for her."

"Are you really complaining about the sun, considering the events of yesterday?" Max asked, eyebrow raised sardonically.

Neri stuck her tongue out at him. "I'm a Fereldan; talking and moaning about the weather is kind of our thing. And I was in the Tower for most of my life, so I have a lot of moaning about the weather to make up for."

Max laughed. "Permission to join you in the complaining?"

"Granted."

"I thought Fereldan was supposed to be bloody rainy, so what the fuck is that big yellow thing in the sky up there?"

"Beats me!" she laughed. "The damn thing needs to bugger off; I miss the clouds."

"You and me both," Maxime sighed as he fanned himself, looking quite red in the face.

"At least your ears won't get cold," Sigrun chuckled.

Neri and Lenny both smiled. "They could get burned, though and that's no fun either." She shook her head. "Let's go find this Dalish elf, then."

**…**

"I bloody hate walking trees!" she groused, as a sylvan wrapped its roots around her for the fifth time that day.

"At least they're not t-talking," Lenny muttered, as he hacked into the roots trapping her.

She snorted. "The last talking tree I met was actually very nice. These sylvans are so damn grumpy, though."

"They're quite prickly, yes," Sigrun shouted, as she hacked into the sylvan, grinning madly.

Neri smirked. "Causing quite a thorn in my side, too!"

"I'm quite stumped as to how we kill them!" Sigrun joked back to her as she ducked under a swing of the sylvan branch.

"I've got this!" Maxime cried, as he unleashed a blast of fire at the walking tree. The flames licked up the sylvan's branches and set its leaves and twigs on fire, but the tree did not fall; instead it continued on its rampage. Now they had a walking, angry flaming tree to deal with instead of just a walking angry tree.

"How is  _that_  better!?" Neri screamed, as the burning tree rushed toward her rooted prison.

"At least it's not as bad as the inferno golem!" Sigrun said with a laugh as she tried to distract the sylvan; it seemed deadest on reaching Neri, though.

Lenny hacked away at her prison faster until he finally created an opening big enough for her to crawl out of; she scrambled through it just as the tree's massive flaming trunk-foot came crashing down where she had been trapped just seconds ago.

"That is quite enough out of you!" Neri shouted at the fiery tree. She hit it with a blast of her magic and slammed it into the cliff face and pinned it there. The others hacked away at it until it was nothing but firewood.

Max helped her back to her feet and she sighed as she wiped the sweat from her brow.

"Why don't we ever visit nice forests, with birds singing and cute little rabbits hopping about? Why is it always stomp, stomp, stomp, smash!?" she said in a deep, hulking voice, with actions to boot.

Maxime and Sigrun laughed. "It's fun! I wonder what else awaits us deeper in?" Sigrun said,  _way_  too enthusiastically.

**…**

Neri stared at the Dalish camp site, and clasped her hands behind her back. "Detective Maxime, thoughts?"

"These weapons were clearly placed here; they aren't with the bodies, Captain," he replied with a smirk.

Neri nodded in agreement. "Lieutenant Sigrun, anything further to add from your advantaged position lower to the ground?"

Sigrun snorted. "That was a poorly disguised short joke, Captain."

"Yes, yes it was, Lieutenant."

Sigrun smiled as she checked the weapons. "There's no blood on them, Cap. Don't think these were used for fighting."

"And it seems unlikely that the bandits would clean their weapons before dying, does it not?" Neri said to her group.

"That would be v-very odd indeed," Lenny agreed.

"So, to conclude, then: this appears to be a setup, does it not?"

"Someone wanted that Dalish mage to think that bandits had killed her sister," Maxime agreed.

"Why would someone want her to think that, though?" Sigrun asked, frowning slightly.

"This sounds like a problem for the Warden Detectives to solve!" Neri said enthusiastically as she marched back down the hill.

They all chuckled and followed after her.

**…**

"I don't think it's possible to go out on a day trip without nearly dying at least seven times," Neri groaned, as she held her arms up in the air, keeping her barrier strong around them all as five angry sylvan swarmed around them, trying to break through her defences.

Neri swatted at another root that tried to crawl under her barrier, and Sigrun's axe slammed down onto it, cutting it in half. "It's much worse in the Deep Roads," Sigrun gasped, a little breathless from all of the fighting they'd been doing. "The Legion used to have a tally for how many days each of us had been alive. It was a miracle to have more than a few months on the chart."

"B-but aren't you technically dead anyway?" Lenny questioned, as he stomped on another root creeping up out of the ground.

"Symbolically, yes. It was just a friendly competition to see who would last the longest," she said with a slight shrug. "I guess I won," she added darkly.

Neri cracked her knuckles. "Okay, well, I don't want to get strangled to death by a tree, so let's get the fuck out of here." She glanced at Maxime who was finishing healing his leg. "Ready?"

He nodded at her, and Lenny helped him to his feet. "Yeah, let's do this."

She poured more energy into her barrier and then she sent it exploding outwards; the wave of energy knocked over all of the sylvans, and her Wardens surged forward, each taking a target. Neri lifted two of the stupid trees up and slammed them together while Maxime tossed a fireball at them; they ran around creaking and crackling as the flames consumed them. Lenny was hacking into one of the sylvans still on the ground; Sigrun ran between the legs of another as it tried to get up, hacking at its trunk. Neri sent it back down with a blast of her magic and pinned it to the ground. She glanced at Maxime, who had set the last one on fire while pinning it in place with a glyph.

Soon all of the trees were little more than ash.

"Max, do me a favour: burn this entire forest to the ground. I am sick of these trees," Neri groaned.

He chuckled. "But we're having such a  _wonderful_  day out here!"

She blew air out through her nose. "You sound far too happy to be sarcastic, Max. Leave it to the expert." She patted his back.

"So, what now?" Sigrun asked as she sheathed her weapons.

"We h-haven't checked over there, yet," Lenny pointed out from the top of the hill ahead of them.

Neri sighed and strapped her staff to her back. "Then I'm sure something over there needs killing. Let's go."

**…**

"I can feel them all around us," Neri said with sigh. "I don't understand why they aren't attacking. We haven't fought a single darkspawn, yet." She felt like they were watching them, though, and that made her shiver.

"Maybe the sight of the Slayer of the Archdemon is scaring them off?" Sigrun asked hopefully.

"Does she look scary to you?" Maxime asked. "She's adorable!"

Neri snorted. "The Slayer does not appreciate being called  _adorable_."

"The Mage apologises profusely. Would the Slayer prefer it if the Mage calls her something more menacing, instead?"

"The Slayer would definitely prefer that."

He snickered. "Almighty slayer of the Archdemon, never have I seen such a horrifying sight as a hung over you trying to climb down the stairs after your first night here."

Neri burst out laughing and even Lenny laughed a little. "Y-you did look pretty horrifying that day," Lenny said with an impish grin.

"I will have you all know that I can be very,  _very_  scary when I need to be!" Neri said, shooting them all mock-glares before she stormed ahead into the next clearing.

She immediately regretted that. She saw the cobwebs first, and then heard the horrible hissing. She bolted back out of the clearing, screaming her head off, as the spiders gave chase. One shot webbing at her foot and she crashed into the grass; panicked, she tried to free her leg of the sticky silk as the hissing monsters scuttled toward her. She was screaming again, and her Wardens were  _laughing_ , at least until they saw how genuinely terrified she was; then they leapt into the fray and killed the spiders.

She finally got her breathing under control and Sigrun crouched down next to her leg and helped remove the webs. The dwarf looked at her sympathetically. "I don't like them much either."

Neri let out a self-depreciating laugh. "I doubt you run away screaming, though?"

"Of course not," she said with a grin.

Maxime strolled back over, barely holding back his smirk. "I could have sworn you said something a moment ago…"

She folded her arms and glared up at him.

"Len," Max said, looking at the elf. "Help me out: what exactly were her words?" he said as he tapped his chin thoughtfully.

Lenny's lips curved into a smile before he straightened his face again. "Something about being very s-scary, I think." His stutter made them all smirk slightly, and then Maxime clicked his fingers.

"That's  _right!_  You said you could be  _very_ , very scary when you need to be." Maxime grinned down at her.

She huffed. "Well, clearly I didn't  _need_  to be just then!"

They all chuckled, and Max helped her back to her feet; she frowned as she suddenly felt something similar to the taint nearby. It wasn't quite darkspawn, which meant…She rounded the corner and sighed heavily. There was a man lying on the ground desperately trying to hide his face from them. She glanced over her shoulder at the others; they all looked just as troubled as her, then they all stepped forward, toward the man.

"No! Don't look at me," he begged, as he shied away from them more. She could see the big black blotches on his neck, and when he peeked up at them through a gap in his fingers she could see his white, cloudy eyes. Her stomach sank at the sight of him; this would be her one day, overrun by the taint with death her only chance of freedom from it.

She crouched down in front of him. "It's okay," she softly said. "We're Grey Wardens."

"You… you are here to deal with the darkspawn, then?" he asked shyly, still hiding much of his face from her.

She nodded. "Well, we came to stop the caravans being attacked. But if there are darkspawn here too, then it is our duty to deal with them as well."

"I-I came here with friends. We wanted to drive away the elf, but the darkspawn were too quick. We were ripped apart. They're all dead, nothing but soft meat melting into the ground…"

Her nose wrinkled at his imagery. "Did you and your friends kill the elves, then?"

He shook his head. "No, the darkspawn came first. Slaughtered us, took our steel, brought it to the elven camp. Tricked us, tricked the elf. Now she thinks we are to blame, hunts everyone in her rage, while they watch."

Neri had a really bad feeling about this. "We need to leave," she said suddenly.

"Whoa, we can't," Maxime protested. "We have to stop the elf, we have to get her to realise the truth…"

"This is a trap, Max. One I will not walk into," Neri said sternly.

He shook his head. "We have to stop the darkspawn. We can't run."

She clenched her fists. "Fucking bollocks," she cursed under her breath, knowing he was right. They needed this trade route safe, and it wouldn't be, while there were smart darkspawn in the area plotting Maker knows what.

"The dark ones are curious about you too; they watch you as well as her. Can you feel them?" the tainted man whispered.

She growled. "Yes. Thank you so much for pointing out the obvious," she snapped.

Lenny shot her a glare and crouched in front of the man. "Wh-where did they come from?" he questioned.

"Under, around, the shadows," the man replied.

"This disease will kill you," Maxime said sympathetically.

"Already dead, already gone. Make it end, please."

Lenny looked up at her and she nodded; he then plunged his knife into the man's heart, whispering something in elven.

As they recovered from their mutual disgust and remorse, a group of darkspawn approached them with their weapons drawn. "You will be coming with us, Warden," one of the hurlocks said, looking directly at her.

Neri laughed. "Well that's a very poor invite," she teased.

"The Architect be speaking with you."

The Architect… well, that made sense. This had clearly been well planned out. But she'd face him on her own terms. "Well, you can tell him I don't  _want_  to chat." She lifted the group into the air and slammed them back down. Maxime unleashed a fireball into their midst and Sigrun and Lenny finished them off quickly with their duel wielded blades.

"Hopefully he gets our message," she laughed.

"Why do they want you?" Sigrun asked as she examined the darkspawn bodies, looking for anything good to loot.

"No idea," she sighed as she kicked one of the darkspawn over. She hadn't seen a talking one up close; they didn't really look any different to other darkspawn.

"I'm still getting used to the idea of darkspawn wanting to  _chat_  at all," Maxime admitted, as he retied the laces on one of his fur-lined boots.

Neri ran a hand through her hair. "Let's just find this damned elf and stop her from hurting anybody else. And then we'll decide how to handle the darkspawn."

"If the Architect is here… we need to see it. Speak with it. Stop it," Maxime said firmly. "Too many have died here because of the darkspawn."

She nodded glumly, feeling sick; every bone in her body was telling her to run, to get away from here.

They climbed back up the hill, and the Dalish elf reappeared above them. "Why are you still here!? I told you to leave this place," she cried out.

"The darkspawn set you up! They killed your clan, not the bandits. You're killing people for no good reason!" Neri yelled angrily up at her.

The elf frowned. "No! You're wrong, they did it; I know they did. Leave this place!" She used her strange Keeper magic, and more sylvans staggered into life, knocking Max on his ass and trapping Lenny and Sigrun in a prison together.

Neri growled. "Oh no you don't, not again!" Her magic latched onto the elf and slammed her down onto the path just a few feet away. Neri locked her in a crushing prison and approached her, squeezing tightly as the sylvans came toward her.

"Call them off or you die," Neri snarled.

"I can't while you crush me," the elf growled.

Neri let the prison fall and the elf hunched over, breathing heavily. Neri put her dagger at the elf's throat. "I wasn't lying. Now call them off!"

The Dalish nodded and clicked her fingers; the sylvan froze in place, back to being normal trees again, and the roots disappeared around her friends.

Neri dipped her head and sheathed her dagger. "Thank you."

The elf watched her suspiciously. "You said darkspawn were to blame; what of the weapons I found, or my sister's kidnapping?"

"The Grey Wardens have been investigating intelligent darkspawn in this area. I think they meant to draw me here; it wouldn't be the first time they have done something like this," Neri tried to explain. "I'm sorry they used your clan in such a way. Look, if they still have your sister, I will do everything I can to help find her," she promised firmly, knowing exactly what darkspawn did with females.

The elf cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. "You would help me? Why?"

She offered the Dalish a smile. "I'm a Grey Warden, it's kind of our thing."

The elf looked momentarily shocked, and then she bowed her head. "Thank you; perhaps I misjudged you. My name is Velanna, if you care for such things."

"Well, it's certainly better than calling you 'angry elf'," Neri joked. "I'm Neri."

"Very good. We should kill the beasts responsible for all the dead. They must pay for all they have done here."

"Agreed. But I don't plan on running head first into a trap."

Velanna dipped her head. "That seems wise, if what you say is true about their intelligence."

Maxime picked up his staff where it had been knocked out of his hands, and approached Neri with the others. The two elves smiled at them. "Everyone, this is Velanna. Velanna, everyone," Neri said.

"Nice to meet you," Maxime said with a bright smile. Velanna gave him a curt nod; he probably shouldn't expect her to be all sunshine and rainbows all of a sudden. "So, darkspawn?"

Neri sighed and looked at the elf at her side. "Got any ideas where they might be hiding?"

"There's an abandoned mine at the bottom of this slope. Would that be a suitable place for the monsters to hide?"

Neri groaned. "Yeah, that sounds perfect."

"How are we handling this?" Sigrun asked. "It stinks like a trap."

"Are there any other entrances into the mines?" Neri asked Velanna.

"I don't think so, no."

"Then, we have little choice but to simply go down there." She pulled her staff from her back. "They are here for  _me_. It would be wise if the rest of you wait up here while I check it out."

All of her Wardens shook their heads; the general consensus was: absolutely not.

"We're not splitting up," Max said firmly. "We go in together, we fight together, we leave together."

Neri groaned but nodded her head. "Alright, then. Everyone stay alert."

They all drew their weapons and slowly made their way down the slope. Sigrun and Lenny opened the door to the mines and Neri went in first, a spell ready on her lips. They all followed in after her and slowly walked down the steps. She could feel the darkspawn around her, feel all of the taint tickling her mind. And then she felt something else, something much more powerful: an emissary. And she could see its plans too.

Walking head first into a trap apparently wasn't much better than running.

" _Run!"_ was all she had time to say before the emissary appeared above them, arms wide.

"Shhhhh, sleep," it rasped.

And the darkness took them all.


	39. Fuck this and Fuck that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments guys and thank you Lys for the betaing! <3

She was such a pretty little thing; she had thought that the moment she had laid eyes upon her. She would not mind keeping her around at all. She smiled down at the unconscious elf, stroking her cheek. "Yes, you are perfect," she whispered.

"Time to bleed this one again," one of the talking ones said to her as it entered the room.

She smiled at it and dipped her head. "Of course, dear. I shall let you do your work."

She walked through the caverns, her long robes billowing around her ankles as she searched for the Architect. She knew where he was likely to be; it still irritated her slightly that she had to be the one to go to him so frequently, but it would not do to argue about such trivial things, not when so much was at stake.

She found the emissary scribbling something down in a journal. She cleared her throat and the darkspawn turned to face her with a nod. "She is still unconscious?" he asked, in that thick wheezing voice of his.

"Yes. Although the others will no doubt be waking soon."

"The others are not important," he rasped. "We only need her."

"I know that," she snapped. "And yet we remain here. Why?"

"My experiments are not yet complete," he explained, sounding exasperated again.

"The longer we stay, the more likely it is that others will come to investigate this place."

"We will leave when we are ready," the Architect said dismissively, looking back at his notes.

"I have waited a  _very_  long time to be reunited with —"

"I require patience. You will get what you want, in time."

She rolled her eyes. "I better. Ever since you told me of this plan of yours… it is all I can think about."

He nodded. "And I. But I must plan this properly. Please." He motioned to the door and she sighed.

"Fine. Just hurry it up."

**…**

There was an emissary watching her sleep. She should have freaked out at that, but she felt oddly calm; it obviously didn't want her dead, which was probably good. She couldn't say the same for her friends, though. Neri struggled against her restraints, groaning in pain; her arms felt so heavy and tired. She tried to get a look at her surroundings but the darkspawn moved to stand over her.

"Hush, do not fear," it rasped down to her. Its distorted lips twisted further, into what she assumed was meant to be a smile. "At last we meet."

"Architect," Neri guessed, her voice thick with sleep. She felt so drowsy, so weak.

"It is good you did not die, I told her such. The blood in your veins is unique. Invaluable."

She frowned. "Because of the Archdemon…" she guessed quietly, her eyelids starting to droop shut again. She cursed herself for being so easily controlled.

The darkspawn nodded its head. "I apologise for what I must do. I do not wish to be your enemy. But now is not the time for this.  _Rest_ ," it whispered and her eyes closed once more.

**…**

The first thing Lenny felt was cold, as he gradually woke up, then the dryness of his mouth, and then the sound of footsteps. He opened his eyes, squinting slightly as they adjusted to the dark room. He sat up slowly, groaning quietly; he felt exhausted. His arms were sore too; he ran his fingers up the bandages still wrapped around them and frowned. He looked around and spotted Sigrun opposite him in just her smalls and a shirt, Maxime in a similar state of undress still lying on the ground but slowly coming to, and the Dalish elf, pacing along the cell's length. Neri was nowhere to be seen. He gulped; that was  _not_  good.

"I think they took our blood," Sigrun said as she rubbed her arm, scowling.

He stared at his arm and then unwrapped the bandages. Sure enough there were marks across his wrist. He frowned. "W-why would darkspawn want  _our_  b-blood?"

Sigrun shook her head.

Velanna stopped her pacing. "Does it matter?" she spat. "We are trapped in here and I need to find my sister!"

Maxime groaned loudly and looked around in confusion. "Where's Neri?" he asked, as he rubbed his face, wiping off the dirt smeared over it.

"We don't know," Lenny informed him, frowning slightly.

" _Merde_ ," Maxime cursed. "She knew it was a bad idea to come in here, we should have listened."

"Too late now; what we have to do is fight our way out of here and kill every one of these bastards," Sigrun said.

Maxime smiled, admiring her tenacity. "Are you going to strangle darkspawn to death with your breast band?"

She blushed, looking down at her body.

He did the same and cursed again. "Why is it I keep ending up in precarious situations with just a shirt on? The Maker is punishing me; I'm just not sure what for," he grumbled.

Lenny smiled. "At least you're not in the sun, this time."

Max snorted, shaking his head. "Because a mine full of darkspawn is  _so_  much better!" he laughed.

"Neri's right, you should leave the sarcasm to the experts, you're too cheery for it," Sigrun said with a half-smile.

"We need to get out of here!" Velanna snapped.

Maxime cleared his throat and got to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall. "I have no magic," he said as he tried to conjure a flame to his hands. "It… it feels like it's being blocked." He frowned. "I've never felt anything like it."

"And none of us have any armour or weapons," Sigrun sighed as she too got to her feet.

"Well can any of you pick this lock?" Velanna asked, getting irritated.

Lenny got up and took a look at it, scowling. "It needs a key."

" _Wonderful_ ," Velanna growled.

"See? That's how sarcasm is supposed to sound," Sigrun teased Max, bumping into his side playfully.

He shook his head smiling and then cleared his throat as Velanna frowned at him. "Right. Escape plan. Anyone got any bright ideas?"

They all shook their heads.

Velanna cursed in elven and grabbed the bars of the cell, shaking them loudly.

The door on the far side of the chamber suddenly opened and in stepped an elf. "Seranni!" Velanna cried. "Oh Creators, what have they done to you?"

"They haven't  _done_  anything. I'm fine, Velanna. It's not me he wants; they have the Warden that accompanied you all."

"Where is she?" Maxime asked urgently, rushing forward to the bars.

"She is in one of the containment rooms; they are experimenting on her." Seranni shook her head. "I agree with what he wants, what he plans, but not that. They go too far with that. You have to free her."

"Come with us, then," Velanna begged. "We will leave together, Seranni."

Seranni looked over her shoulder and shook her head. "They are coming; you must find a way out of the mines!" she cried, as she handed Maxime the key and then darted away.

"Seranni! I can't leave without you!" Velanna wailed.

"If these darkspawn are coming in here…" Max said, looking around, thinking.

"I'll ambush them from the cell over there," Sigrun said.

"Are you sure?"

She grinned. "Positive."

He nodded and unlocked the cell; Sigrun crept across the chamber and slipped into the opposite cell. A second later the chamber door opened and several darkspawn walked in. They walked more human-like than normal darkspawn and they weren't grunting or making other odd noises like their brethren would.

"Ah, you be awake," the one in the front said.

"What have you done with our friend?" Maxime asked firmly.

"She be leaving with the Architect soon. We must be killing you now."

Maxime chuckled. "I don't think so." He flung the cell door open, smashing one of the darkspawn in the face, stunning it. He grabbed its sword and plunged it through the darkspawn's chest. Sigrun pounced from her hiding spot and disarmed a second darkspawn and then killed it quickly. Max blocked a blow from the third, backing up against the wall just as Lenny wrapped his arms around the darkspawn's neck, disabling it long enough for Sigrun to bury her stolen sword in its gut.

Max grinned at his friends and then noticed Velanna already heading for the door and cursed. "Oi! We can't just rush out there -"

"I  _have_  to find my sister," she whispered harshly, before disappearing out the door.

Maxime sighed. "Lenny, Sigrun, put some of the darkspawn's armour on and let's go."

**…**

She could feel their hands on her, pulling her up off the table and to her feet. They half dragged, half carried her out of wherever they had been holding her. She could barely lift her head, could barely open her eyes. Her heart pounded in her chest, blood rushed past her ears and her mind tingled uncomfortably thanks to the darkspawn surrounding her.

They were taking her somewhere.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to clear away the blurriness of her vision. She would not let them take her… she knew what they did to females. She would not… she could not.  _Anything_  but that.

She focused on the Fade. Called out to it. Begged for it.

Her feet continued to drag along the uneven ground. The darkspawn's grip on her arms was pinching her skin tight enough to leave bruises. She opened her eyes. She needed to focus. She needed to get away. Needed to find the others…

The Fade crackled around her fingertips. Not much, but if she was lucky, maybe just _enough—_

She let the ball of energy grow in front of her. The darkspawn were in a hurry, barely paying attention to her. There were more not far away, but she would deal with them when she had to. For now, only these two mattered. Two hurlocks. Strong. Tall. But unsuspecting.

She unleashed her ball of energy, and all three of them were thrown in three separate directions. Neri hit the ground with a thud; she heard her skull crack and pain flared through her mind, turning her vision white. She shuffled backwards. She needed to get away. Her hand closed around a lose rock, and just as one of the hurlocks grabbed her shoulder to haul her back up she smashed the rock into its face. It cried out in pain and reeled back, and she gave it a solid kick in the groin for good measure.

"Do not be making it worse," the second rasped at her.

" _Fuck you,"_ she spat.

It grabbed her leg, and she kicked and screamed, struggling against it. Its grip was tight as it dragged her back down the tunnel; the other, slightly injured darkspawn followed them, scowling down at her.

"The Architect be needing you. Do not struggle," it said to her.

She spat at its feet. "I will never stop struggling against you monsters," she snarled.

The hurlock at her side seemed to sigh. "Unfortunate." It lifted its boot and slammed it down on her head.

**…**

They had all their stuff back for the most part – the important stuff anyway: their weapons and some basic armour. Maxime noticed one of the strange darkspawn wearing his boots, and he saw red. He charged over to it.

"My boyfriend gave me those!" he shouted as he smacked the mumbling darkspawn over the head with his staff. "Fox fur really isn't your colour!" he yelled as he hit it again and again. The darkspawn looked dazed so he jabbed the bladed end of his staff through its chest. "I swear, if your disgusting tainted feet have ruined the fur lining…" he growled as he yanked his staff back out. The darkspawn fell to the ground, blood gurgling out of the hole in its chest, and Maxime yanked his boots off of its feet.

He sighed heavily at the black gunk now smeared into the bright red fur. "Ruined," he cried. "I don't even think it's sanitary to put these back on!"

"It's better than going barefoot, trust me," Sigrun said as she wiped away yet more black goo lodged between her toes.

"We need to find Neri," Lenny reminded them.

"And my sister!" Velanna added shrilly.

Maxime nodded and headed down the winding mine tunnels.

"Max," Lenny suddenly said. "There's s-something else here, it feels like..." He frowned. " _Creators_ ," he cursed and then broke into a sprint.

The others chased after him and came to a stop just as Lenny crouched down next to the broken and bloodied form of Keenan. He had been at the Keep… a Warden; he had been dragged away by darkspawn during the attack.

Maxime crouched next to Lenny, who was nearly in tears, and ran his eyes over Keenan. His legs were broken, his skull fractured, it looked like he had been stomped on repeatedly… Maxime cursed quietly, unable to stop the tears forming in his own eyes. Even if his magic wasn't still being blocked somehow, he wouldn't be able to heal  _this_. Maybe Anders could… but Maxime wasn't the best healer.

"S'okay," Keenan rasped up to him, his frail hand gave Lenny's a gentle squeeze.

"It's n-not. I s-saw them… I could have  _s-stopped_  them," Lenny blabbered, remembering how he had ignored Keenan being dragged away by the darkspawn during the Keep attack; he had been so focused on reaching Olivia, that he had allowed this to happen.

"How- how many lived?" Keenan croaked, glancing at Maxime.

Maxime rested his hand on Keenan's arm. "Five. Olivia, Rafael and Coline are alive and well. Neri too."

Keenan nodded feebly. "My wife… you'll tell her."

"Of course," Maxime said, his voice breaking.

Keenan put a ring in his hands. "For Nida."

"I'll make sure she gets it, brother."

Keenan gave them a weak smile and then his breath left him in a rush and he stilled.

They lowered their heads.

"Maker watch over you, Keenan," Maxime whispered.

Lenny closed Keenan's eyes, then slowly rose to his feet. "Neri n-needs us."

Maxime wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded as he got back up. "It feels wrong to just leave him here."

"We can give him a dwarven burial on our way out of here, if you want," Sigrun suggested. "Right now, though, we need to find Neri."

They all nodded and hurried through yet more tunnels.

**…**

A sharp pain in her head jolted her awake and she screamed.

There was a darkspawn dragging her by her hair across the ground, and another by its side - the one she had smacked with the rock earlier. Neri kicked and dug her nails into the creature's hand, but it just punched her in her face, making pain explode through her head until she saw only white.

" _Hurry_ ," a woman's voice said.

Neri frowned. She knew that voice… Didn't she?

She felt a wave of magic wash over her and shuddered.  _Blood magic._

Everything went dark.

**…**

A sharp pain in her head jolted her awake and she screamed.

There was a darkspawn dragging her by her hair across the ground and another by its side: the one she had smacked with the rock earlier. Neri kicked and dug her nails into the creature's hand but it gave her a kick in her side, making her cry out.

Her vision cleared enough for her to look around at her surroundings. She frowned; she had an odd sense of déjà vu. She shook her head. If she could grab a rock, like she had earlier… it wouldn't be much – but she only needed to get away. And she could feel the Wardens,  _her_  Wardens closing in. They were coming for her.

**…**

Maxime ran into the mine's main chamber and his eyes locked with Neri's. She was being dragged by her hair across the chamber floor by a hurlock, and there was another darkspawn at its side. At the end of the chamber was the emissary that had put them all to sleep in the first place. Seranni was at his side, and so was a female dwarf. Maxime ignored them all and charged forward.

"Her blood is unique!" the emissary cried out, its voice wheezy. "I do not wish harm upon her, only to use her before it is too late!" he said, sounding desperate.

Maxime ignored the emissary's shouting and rushed forward toward the helpless elf, suddenly a black crow slammed into his face, talons tearing into his skin and wings flapping wildly. He cried out as he batted it away with his staff, cursing loudly as he urged his legs to move faster toward Neri.

The darkspawn had broken into a run and Neri's screams filled the chamber as she howled in pain; despite her agony she was clearly in, she was still making the darkspawn's lives hell, scratching, kicking and grabbing at them with what little strength she had. The Architect began firing fireballs in their direction, and Maxime ducked narrowly missing one as it soared over his head. Lenny was in front of him now, swords already drawn as they closed in on the darkspawn. He wished they had archers or his magic to fight back with, as it was, they could only fight in close quarters, and that meant they actually had to reach the darkspawn first.

As if the emissary had sensed his thoughts, a magic barrier appeared in front of him and the other Wardens, blocking them from reaching Neri. Maxime screamed against the shimmering wall, slamming his fists into it, but it was no use, it wouldn't budge. He saw the panic in Neri's eyes and felt his stomach plummet.  _Maker, no_.

Max watched as Neri's bloodied fingers latched onto a loose stone and slammed it into the back of the darkspawn's knee; the hurlock stumbled, hitting the ground hard, and then the little elf was on it, bringing the stone down on its head over and over again until it was a little more than a puddle on the ground. The second darkspawn grabbed her roughly and threw her forward; she slid across the ground with a cry, clearly dazed. The darkspawn approached her, weapons drawn and Max felt his heart stop in his chest. He was screaming, crying, blood rushing passed his ears so loudly he couldn't hear anything else. He tried to reach out for his magic again but there was  _still_  nothing there.

"Do not harm her!" the Architect was shouting at the darkspawn, but the hurlock wasn't listening, as it continued its approach toward Neri, clearly set on killing her.

Suddenly, the crow was back, this time attacking the hurlock instead, delaying its attack on Neri. It seemed to wake the elf up enough for her to focus on attacking, and suddenly the blood from the dead hurlock was being lifted into the air, twisting and spirally upward. Neri's hands clenched, and the torrent of blood surged forward, slamming into the hurlock, full force; it knocked it over and then the blood was pouring into its mouth, drowning it. The crow took off again, wings flapping frantically as it made its way toward the tunnel exit where the Architect still stood. Neri snarled at them all, and then sent her blood rushing toward them. The Architect began casting a spell, and the ceiling caved in just before Neri's magic reached them, making the blood splatter across the stone in a shower of red instead.

The barrier blocking them disappeared just as Neri hit the ground, unconscious. They rushed to her side, Maxime finally feeling the Fade fizzle at his fingertips once more. He dropped to his knees and rolled her over, immediately healing her fractured skull. She had lost so much blood, and her skull was more shattered than fractured thanks to the multiple hits it seemed to have taken. He felt like he was trying to put a broken eggshell back together again instead of her head. But having not had his magic for Maker's knows how long, it felt powerful, invigorated and he poured every ounce of it into the little elf.

Eventually his reserves sputtered out and he practically collapsed down next to her prone form, breathless and sweating, his hands shaking, but it didn't matter because Neri would live. They had reached her in time.

He was vaguely aware of the others moving around him, and realised they were setting up camp. "She'll be okay, won't she?" Sigrun asked quietly.

Max smiled feebly. "I think so," he said weakly before his eyes closed.

**…**

It hurt; that was the only way Neri could describe it. Her brain felt like someone was simultaneously stabbing the inside of her head while setting it on fire. It was entirely internal, within her mind. Despite this, she tried to remember; over and over she tried, until her nose was bleeding like that poor messenger's had.

She  _knew_  it was important.

Neri must have seen something or heard  _something_  for this blood mage to have had wiped her memories. She could remember everything else: the waking up with the Architect, the two hurlocks sent to drag her away, her getting knocked out  _again._  And then pain had washed over her as she tried to remember the next set of events, until she nearly passed out again. The next thing she could remember without searing pain was waking up as she was dragged through the chamber, and she had experienced déjà vu then… so she  _knew_  she was missing a memory there.

It was infuriating.

She must have woken up before that 'first' time. Something must have happened…

"Hey," Maxime said softly, squeezing her shoulder. "I still can't remember who took me, the messenger can't remember who gave her the envelope; I don't think you'll be able to remember what you saw or heard either."

She growled. "It's so–"

"I know. But you need to rest, Neri."

She sighed.

"And drink," he said as he handed her a flask of tea. "Lenny and Sigrun are still searching this place, hoping to find some answers. That emissary left in a rush so there's a good chance we'll find something."

She nodded feebly. Despite Maxime's healing and the potions she had drank once she had woken up, she still felt weak. She  _hated_  feeling weak.

"Where is Velanna?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she huddled close to the fire.

"Looking for a way to follow the Architect."

"Her sister was with him."

"Yes. She said she believed in his plan but didn't want to see you hurt." He shrugged. "I think Velanna wants to join the Wardens, seeing as we'll be going after the Architect again at some point."

"She'll be a liability. She'll bolt as soon as she sees her sister again," Neri said, frowning.

"Maybe, but it's not like we can afford to turn away potential recruits right now." He arched an eyebrow at her. "More drinking, less talking."

She gave him a weak smile and sipped some more of the tea.

By the time the others returned, Neri was curled up by the fire, asleep again, snoring softly.

"It's night time outside," Sigrun informed him. "Looks pretty late, not that we can leave any time soon anyway, with Neri still so weak."

"We found these," Lenny said, looking worried, as he came and sat next to Maxime.

They both scanned through the notes; most of it was in a strange, foreign scrawl that he couldn't understand, but occasionally there were diagrams or numbers that at least made a little more sense.

"These look like quantities," Sigrun said as she too looked through some of the emissary's diaries. "Quantities of blood, I think. There are drawings of us too."

"And here is a diagram… it looks to be detailing how it took our blood," Maxime said with a crinkle of his nose.

"This one is w-worse," Lenny said as he showed them a double page spread of diagrams.

"Those are darkspawn," Sigrun said as she squinted at the page. "Three hurlocks and two genlocks. The exact number we found wearing our armour and acting strangely."

"And those are diagrams of  _us_  next to them. What does that mean, exactly?" Max asked, scowling.

"Our b-blood was given to the d-darkspawn, I think," Lenny suggested quietly, swallowing hard.

"The ones with our stuff were mumbling; I could make out a few words but the rest was gibberish… it reminded me of how toddlers speak," Maxime said as a shiver ran down his spine. "Like... like they were learning to talk."

They all frowned.

"What was it the Architect said about Neri's blood? That it was unique?" Max asked.

"That's right," Sigrun said, looking at him expectantly.

"I assumed, I think we all did, that these intelligent darkspawn were just some messed up new breed of darkspawn… what if they weren't? What if they were…made?"

"You're saying that they use our blood to  _create_  intelligent darkspawn?" Sigrun said, wide eyed. "That's what all of these experiments are for; they're trying to figure out the right concentrations, maybe the most effective formula or something."

"It w-wanted Neri's blood," Lenny reminded them.

They all turned to look at the sleeping elf. "But why?" Maxime said quietly.

"The Architect said something about needing her before it was too late…" Sigrun said, frowning. "What did it mean by that?"

"Wardens don't live very long…" Maxime said but even that didn't feel right. "Thirty years is hardly a short time frame to do whatever it wanted with her, though." He scowled at the last part and then sighed. "A problem for another day; I'm just glad we stopped it from taking her."

They all nodded.

"Get some rest," Velanna said then, as she walked back into the chamber. "I will keep first watch."

"Did you find anything?" Maxime asked her.

"No," she said curtly as she sat down away from them, keeping to the shadows.

With a sigh, Maxime curled up next to Neri and fell asleep, dreaming of Rafael and hoping that he would see him soon.

**…**

Neri could hear people moving around her as she stirred from sleep. She didn't feel quite so terrible now. The touch of the darkspawn still lingered on her skin, though, and the Architect's words floated around her head.  _Only to use her before it is too late._  She didn't like the fact that a darkspawn knew about her life expectancy. She didn't like the fact that a darkspawn wanted to  _use_  her. The fact that they had very nearly taken her… She shivered, and then felt a second blanket cover her.

Her eyes flicked open to see Sigrun, the little dwarf, jumping back upon noticing her eyes flutter open. "Good, you're awake!" she said, smiling. "How are you feeling?"

Neri stifled a yawn as she slowly sat up. "Better."

"That's good. We were rather hoping to leave today…"

Neri nodded. "Fair enough."

"We managed to figure out that we've been here three days. Plus the extra two you've been asleep for."

Neri frowned. "I slept for  _two_  days?"

Sigrun nodded. "We could have woken you up, I suppose. But Max said you needed to rest. You went through a lot."

Neri swallowed and stared down at her still-bandaged arms. "Did you figure anything else out?"

"A little. The darkspawn seem to be using our blood to make intelligent darkspawn. What we don't know is  _why_."

Neri clenched her jaw at that, scowling at the ground. "It can't be for anything good," she muttered.

Max, Lenny and Velanna came back from wherever they had been, then; Maxime grinned broadly at her, obviously pleased to see her awake.

"Neri, good to see you up!" he said as he came and sat next to her. A wave of healing magic washed over her remaining aches and pains and she sighed happily. "You should eat something, you must be starving."

Her nose crinkled at the idea of food. Repulsed by it. All she could think of was how Broodmothers were created by being stuffed with tainted meat.

"Neri, I know it can't be easy but you do need to eat something," he said holding out some bread to her.

 _Something_.

She hissed as she tried to remember again, and Max's magic poured through her mind.

"Masochist. Stop thinking about it!" he scolded gently.

Neri chuckled and took the bread from his hand and chewed on it, not really tasting. The others were quiet but they all watched her expectantly. She frowned at them. "What?" she said around her mouthful of slightly stale bread.

Max looked to Lenny and Sigrun and then back at Neri. "The Architect…"

Her nose crinkled at the mention of the emissary.

"Neri, it said your blood was unique. It said…" Max sighed. "It said it needed to use you before it was too late."

She swallowed her mouthful roughly.

There was no escaping the truth now, then.

She took a deep breath, resigned to the fact that she had no choice but to explain, to  _finally_  tell someone. She almost felt relieved. For so long she had wanted to speak to someone about it. At the same time, however, she felt guilty Arietta wasn't hearing it first.

"I…" Neri frowned; it was almost as if saying the words out loud made it real and she didn't want that. Maker, she would give almost anything to make it  _un-real_. "Slaying the Archdemon increased the taint in my veins… made it more  _potent_. It is how I can sense darkspawn better than all of you. It is why my blood magic is so deadly. It is why my nightmares have been particularly bad recently." She sighed as they all watched her, frowning slightly. "It also means that I only have fifteen years to live, roughly."

Maxime's blue eyes looked more like watery puddles as tears welled in them. "Oh,  _Neri_ ," he said, voice cracking before pulling her into a tight hug.

"The consequences you s-spoke of, this was it?" Lenny quietly asked.

She nodded feebly at him as Maxime let go of her, wiping his eyes.

"Who else knows about this?" Sigrun questioned.

"No-nobody," Neri stammered, tears prickling the backs of her eyes.

Maxime hissed. "Neri! You haven't told Arietta  _or_  Anders?"

She shook her head, her cheeks flushing.

"They're your best friends!" he cried.

She scowled. "I couldn't find the words. And I didn't want their sympathy, their pity."

"You would have had their  _support_ ," Maxime said as he ran a hand through his thick beard. "Maker, you've been all alone in this. How long have you known?"

Neri stared down at the ground. "I found out before coming to the Keep," she mumbled.

Maxime groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "Your first night here…  _that's_  why you got so drunk. That's why you wanted me to tell Rafael that I loved him, because time is precious." He sighed heavily and then stared directly at her, his gaze hard. "You  _have_  to tell them."

She shook her head. "I  _can't_." A tear fell down her cheek and she swatted it away angrily.

"They need to know, Neri," Max said softly.

"Agreed. This is all too important to keep a secret," Sigrun said, looking at her sympathetically.

"Neri," Lenny quietly said, his pale blue eyes staring straight at her, holding her eye contact. "My whole l-life I was bullied for my s-stutter. I kept everything bottled up, spoke to nobody. It – it made things  _worse_. It isn't a w-weakness to  _need_  others _._ "

She nodded numbly. "I'll – I'll tell them," she sighed. "First we need to get back there, though."

"Velanna and I will scout ahead, make sure the coast is clear," Sigrun said, as she hopped to her feet.

The Dalish had kept out of the conversation, but she gave Neri a small nod. "You still have your life. Your freedom. You may have a shorter life expectancy, but it is still a  _life_. Do not squander it suffering in silence."

Neri's ears perked up at that and she nodded at the Dalish elf.

Lenny started packing up their belongings, and Max gave her a hand to her feet. "You sure you can walk?"

Neri gritted her teeth and nodded. "I don't want to stay here a moment longer."


	40. Part of The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael has some flashbacks and Arietta finally faces off against the nobility who want her dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you all so much for the comments this past week, and thankyou Lys for the beta work. Love you all dearly <3  
> Second, this chapter is a bit Game of Thrones meets Assassins Creed at times, not sure if that is good or bad.   
> Third, SMUT next week. Woo!   
> And finally, this will be roughly the time I update at now as I have a temp job atm that involves me getting up at 5.30am, so I can't post as late as I normally do. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Part of The Game.**

Arietta kept a smile on her face as she mingled with her guests. She had become good at keeping up pretences while still being able to watch those that wished her harm. So far, it had been an entirely uneventful party. The guests had arrived, she had greeted them all warmly, there had been food and drink served, and now the musicians were playing songs from all over Thedas as the guests stood around chatting with one another.

Arietta passed Ser Temmerly the Ox, as everyone called him. The plan that Nathaniel had been informed of involved the Ox grabbing Arietta from behind and snapping her neck before anyone could react. But she'd expect nothing less from such a  _charming_  fellow. She knew in her gut that he had murdered Ser Tamra, but she could not prove it. However, she was quite certain he was more cunning than his appearance suggested. And indeed, as she passed the Ox by, giving him full access to her back, not a thing happened.

As she had expected.

There had still been a tiny part of her worried he would actually try to kill her, hence the dagger tucked up her sleeve, but such a thing was clearly unnecessary. Esmerelle didn't trust Nathaniel; she was too smart for that, and such a plan was far too dull. No, what lady Esmerelle had planned would be far more extravagant; this was, after all, a party – one needed to put on a show. Nathaniel played his part perfectly, looking shocked at first, and then angry as he rushed over to Esmerelle to question why the Ox had not acted. Esmerelle seemed to be telling him not to worry, that there had been a change in plans. Arietta smiled; she rather enjoyed the game, especially when it was played on  _her_  terms. Esmerelle would be watching Nathaniel now, to see if he tried to warn her, or save her; and he of course, would do nothing. Not that Arietta would need him to; she knew what she was doing. A certain letter from a friend in Antiva had helped immeasurably at tipping her off about Esmerelle's exact plans; even without Zevran's warning though, Arietta would have seen the hired assassins from a mile away. For now, she would wait for Esmerelle to make her move.

**…**

Rafael took another shot, gritting his teeth as the burning liquid flowed down his throat; it wasn't nerves he wanted the drink to drown out, but his memories of his last job, the failed job – the day he was betrayed at a party just like this. But the alcohol did nothing to stop them returning…

_It was such a dreary day, and nothing good ever happened when the weather was so damned miserable. Val Royeaux was covered in a grey haze as the drizzle pattered down on the tiled streets. Such weather did not deter him though; he had a job to do. Percy was at his side, a youth of similar age to Rafael. They had been partners for a little over two years, always taking on jobs together, always watching each other's backs._

_Percy pushed his platinum blonde locks away from his face, revealing his tanned skin and bright green eyes. "I don't think it's heavy enough for the Duke to cancel the event just yet," Percy said thoughtfully._

" _True enough, only a downpour would send the Duke inside," Rafael acknowledged._

_Percy sighed. "And we wouldn't want that, now would we?"_

_Rafael nodded as he scanned their surroundings. "It would certainly make things more interesting." His eyes fell on familiar landmarks – a bakery and a winery. "It's up here, I think."_

_Percy chuckled, a deep throaty sound that Rafael had come to love so much._ Looking back at it though, hadn't it sounded a little forced? _"Not like you to not know exactly where we're going, Raf," Percy teased._

" _What can I say, you kept me up most of the night, and this hangover is killing me," he said, shifting the blame._

 _Percy let out another laugh._ One that was a little too loud, Rafael recalled; he should have realised something was wrong then, but hungover as he was he hadn't noticed.  _"I do apologise," Percy said whimsically. "You seemed to enjoy yourself last night though," he furthered, a slight edge to his voice._

" _I don't remember much in truth, but I'm sure I did. I'm just paying for it now," Rafael said with a groan as he rubbed his temples._

_They climbed a steep incline, and the estate in question came into view. It was a beautiful building, made of rich red and white stone. There were two grand towers flanking the central building and arched entranceway._

" _Which play do you want to use?" Rafael asked his partner as they stood under the shelter of a shop._

" _Well, our noble friend apparently has a taste for... younger men, if you catch my drift."_

_Rafael arched an eyebrow. "Charming."_

" _I look younger than you, so I'll knock on the door and distract him. Find a way in and steal the masks."_

" _Try not to get molested, Percy," Rafael nudged._

" _Yeah, yeah. I think he has a dog or two, so watch that perky little behind of yours; I wouldn't want to see it harmed," Percy retorted, making Rafael roll his eyes._

_Rafael headed down the street, and around the back of the estate. With the rain, the streets were mostly deserted, so jumping the fence unnoticed was easy. He meandered his way through the lavish gardens, and then crouched down in the bushes to check for guards. With the coast clear, he ran across the green, and tossed a grapping hook up onto the balcony above. In a few big strides he clambered up the pillar and onto the ledge. To his surprise and relief, the doors to the balcony were open. He moved through the richly decorated room and out into the corridor. Below, he could hear the noble talking to Percy in the entranceway._

" _How old did you say you were?" the lord said in his grating high pitched voice._

" _Six and ten, my lord," Percy replied innocently. "As I said, I'm in desperate need of work; I'll do anything."_

" _Anything, you say?" the noble purred._

_Rafael shook his head with a smile, and moved toward the master bedroom. He almost laughed when he saw the wyvern masks laid out on the counter; there was no security, and nothing to stop him picking them up and taking them. So he did just that. He looked over the stairwell on his way out and gave Percy a nod, and then he left the way he came in._

_He met up with Percy down the street. "Well, that was easy," he said with a laugh, as he tossed Percy one of the masks._ Too easy, he should have realised. But he was so young back then. Naïve. And so very in love.

" _For you perhaps; he tried to kiss me, ugh! I knocked him out and tied him up; hopefully nobody notices that foul man is missing from the party tonight until we're long gone."_

_Rafael laughed. "We'll be fine! Nobody has seen him or his sons for years; they mostly keep to themselves. We already know the sons are out of town… and now he's taken care of. So stop worrying."_

" _Even so, I'm still gonna do some more scouting of the area. Meet you back at base in a bit."_

" _Stay safe."_

Percy had given him a small smile then, at the time Rafael had thought it was merely one of worry, but perhaps it wasn't, perhaps it was one of regret for what was about to happen?

**…**

_Rafael patted down his black velvet doublet, and glanced over at Percy who was in a silver doublet. Both of them were wearing the green and black wyvern masks they had acquired earlier as they strolled through the gates to the Duke's estate. The building was gorgeous, all white stone surrounded by white marbled tiles. The estate stood three storeys tall, with no balconies or ledges, with dozens of guards on patrol at all hours of the day, thus the only way in was via this party. The Duke was a wealthy man, and apparently had many treasures stored at the estate. Treasures Rafael and Percy's employers wanted. So, Rafael and Percy had been sent in to steal whatever they could get their hands on._

_They walked through the entrance hall, and then out into the massive courtyard in the centre of the estate. There were archways all around the courtyard, with balconies above draped with colourful vines. And in the centre was a massive pool of glistening blue water, which was rippling as the rain pattered down on it._

_The Duke was on the other side of the courtyard, looking as elegant as ever. Percy and Rafael had arrived just in time to hear the man give an extravagant speech about celebrating Harvestmere. Rafael rolled his eyes and gave Percy a nod. The plan was simple: Percy would distract some guards, while Rafael would locate and steal the items. Thanks to servant's reports they had a pretty good idea of where everything was, so, in theory, Rafael could be in an out in with time to spare. Once he had the items, they would both make a hasty exit._

Of course what actually transpired was entirely different.

_Percy made a wonderful distraction; he always did have a taste for the dramatics. He started freaking out over the nuts, telling everyone he was deathly allergic as he collapsed to the ground. Rafael snuck in through the patio doors and quickly made his way to the second floor where the locked chest would be. He made quick work of the lock and then… nothing._

_The chest was empty._

_The doors suddenly flew open behind him, and he turned around, startled, to see Percy with the Duke and several armed guards._

" _I told you he would try to steal from you!" Percy cried out, much to Rafael's horror and shock._

_The guards rushed him; he didn't put up a fight, too shocked to even comprehend what was happening._

" _No hard feelings, Raf," Percy said with a wicked smile. The Duke moved to stand with him, a hand draping around the blond man's shoulders._

" _My dear little Percy has proven himself quite the ally," the Duke cooed as he handed Percy a pouch of coin._

" _You sonofabitch!" Rafael spat, lunging at Percy. "How could you!?" he desperately cried, as the guards gripped him tighter._

_Percy took a graceful step back. "No. How could you?" Percy growled before nodding for the guards to take him away._

**…**

Arietta noticed the faraway look in Rafael's eyes and meandered over to him. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly from Rafael's side.

He flinched slightly and then swallowed and nodded his head. "Yes, sorry, I was miles away," he said a little stiffly.

She pursed her lips; she needed her Wardens at their best, which he clearly wasn't. "Well, try to stay close, hmm?"

He straightened, taking a calming deep breath. "Yes, Commander."

The band started to play a mournful song, their harps, violins and flutes suddenly filling the air with sad notes. Arietta moved to take her position on the stage in order to address her guests once more. This was the moment. This was where she would finally put an end to this ridiculous assassination plot.

"My lords and ladies, thank you all for coming," Arietta said with a broad smile, holding her head high. "It has been a wonderful evening but I fear that I must draw these festivities to an end."

"Why? Things are about to get much more interesting!" Esmerelle said, stepping forward with an arrogant smile. " _Kill her_!" she cried in righteous fury.

Rafael stiffened and drew his dagger as the band members all drew swords that had been carefully concealed in their instruments, and moved toward Arietta. They were clearly hired Crows, and they were joined by several other nobles who also pulled out their weapons. Rafael noted Ser Timothy, Ser Temmerly the Ox, and Lady Morag were among them. The other nobles in the room backed away, cowering and crying in fear, while Arietta's Wardens all stepped forward defensively.

The Commander simply craned her head to the side and smiled ever so slightly. "How correct you are. Things are indeed about to become  _very_  interesting." Arietta clicked her fingers and the 'Crows' suddenly turned on the nobles; there was a brief scuffle, but the nobles were soon disarmed of their weapons and forced onto their knees in front of Arietta, too shocked to really put up much of a fight - their precious plans ruined.

"Howe!" Esmerelle screamed. It took Rafael a minute to realise she meant Nathaniel Howe, and now  _how_ had this happened.

Nathaniel gave her a small smile. "You didn't really think I would betray the Commander, did you?"

She wailed and fell to her knees.

"You have betrayed me," Arietta said icily stepping toward the conspirators, her boots echoing on the stone ground. "You would take my life, your Arlessa and Queen. I  _should_  take all of yours, but I shan't. Instead I will take something of value from all of you." She looked at all of the traitors in front of her, knowing what each of them valued most dearly. "Ser Timothy, you did business with the wrong people and so I take your stores, stock and trade galleys."

"No, no, please! My lady, I am sorry!" he sobbed pitifully.

"Sorry, is not good enough!" Arietta yelled as she stepped toward the crying noble. "You would have had a hand in my murder all so you could earn some extra coin," she spat. "You are a pathetic and greedy little man, and your gluttony has cost you dearly. Now you will have to re-earn everything, starting from less than nothing." She looked away, disgusted. "Get him out of my sight," she growled.

A brunette was pushed forward next by Oghren, a woman who kept her head held high, trying to stay prim and proper despite the fact that she was on her knees and sorely beaten. Arietta looked down at her, a cruel smile twisting her face. "Oh Lady Morag, your hair is a mess," she cooed, mockingly as she tucked a strand behind the woman's ear. "For a woman so concerned with appearance you've done a spectacular job of ruining yours. But why stop there? Your power and wealth comes from the way you are perceived to be immaculate and beautiful. You've never had to work for anything in your life. I think it's about time that changed, don't you? You'll be working out in the fields from now on; let us see how  _immaculate_  you look after a day's work, after a thousand." Morag held her head high as she was dragged away, but her eyes betrayed her – she was terrified and on the edge of tears.

Next was the Ox. He had a sadistic little grin curving his broad lips that made her shiver in disgust.

"Well played," he muttered. "I didn't think a delicate little flower like you had it in you, especially not after you let me go last time I was in front of you."

"I didn't have enough evidence then to convict you of Ser Tamra's murder. But attempted assassination of the Queen of Ferelden? That's punishable by death." She watched him hold his breath, savouring the beads of sweat forming on his brow. Then looked away, walking back to the dais."Hang him," she ordered, and the Ox roared. She heard a struggle behind her, then the beating of footsteps coming toward her. She spun at the last second, a smile on her lips as she plunged the dagger she had up her sleeve into his neck before he could lay a finger on her. Blood spurted out of the deep gash and he stared down at the blood coating his armoured doublet in shock before he started gurgling, blood dribbling out of his mouth. "Void take you," she whispered before she twisted her blade and yanked it back out.

The Ox collapsed to the ground and Arietta stepped over him, her icy gaze landing on the wide eyed Esmerelle. "As for you, Bann Esmerelle, all of this began because you believed Howe was good to you, yet you never did give me a chance to be good to any of you. You believe me to be so terrible? That is how I shall act with you now," she growled in her face, leaning in close. "I strip you of  _everything_. Whatever Howe gave you - it's gone. Whatever he promised you - it will never come to fruition. All you had is lost. You are, and will remain, a nobody." She stood up straight, smiling smugly. "Lock her up, lose the key."

"You – you will not get away with this!" Esmerelle wailed as her men dragged her away.

Arietta looked at the crowd of shocked onlookers. "If anybody else has any problems with me ruling this arling or  _how_  I rule, tell me to my face. You'll find me a just ruler, fair and compassionate. Cross me, however, and I will show  _no_  mercy. The Wardens are here to  _help_. We are the only ones capable of dealing with the darkspawn that plague this area, so you are damned well stuck with us until such a time as they are gone, and even then we may remain if we feel we are needed. But I think we have all had enough drama for one night, yes?"

With that, the nobles slowly filtered out of the room, bowing and praising her excellent handling of the situation. It was more meaningless chatter, but at least she had proven herself to them all; they would be unlikely to cross her again now, and she could finally focus on the darkspawn threat instead.

Oghren came up to her, frowning. "What happened to 'be ready for a fight'?" he grumbled.

"I  _did_  kill the Ox..."

"That paper cut? Ha! I mean the real fighting! There wasn't any ripping their heads from their shoulders, no crushing of spines or breaking of bones." He sighed. "Pah. Dwarven politics are much more fun."

She smiled down at the dwarf and patted his shoulder. "We drink just as hard as dwarves when we're celebrating though."

He grinned up at her and chuckled quietly. "Now we're talking! I'll go get the casks."

"Nicely handled," Howe commented to her with a dip of his head.

"And to you. Thank you."

He smiled. "My pleasure. I never did like that shrew very much."

"You and me both."

She glanced back at the body of the Ox with a crinkle of her nose. "I suppose we should sort that out before he stains the stone."

"I'll handle it, Commander," Varel said, putting down the blade he had concealed well in his instrument.

"You play the violin quite well, Seneschal," she mused.

He blushed a little. "My mother always said women like a man who's good with his hands; I took to the sword from a young age, but mother secretly taught me to play on the side."

She chuckled. "Well, I'm glad for it, I felt safer knowing you were watching my back."

"Seems like you can watch your own back just fine, Commander."

"You coming to drink or what!?" Oghren bellowed from the doorway, already holding two flagons of Maker only knew what.

Arietta glanced at Rafael who was standing off the side still, looking subdued. "We'll be there soon!" she called back. She headed over to the curly haired rogue, and his grey eyes flicked up to hers. "You okay?"

He exhaled. "I was... worried there for a little while." He swallowed and tried for a smile. "Well done, and I'm glad you're alright, Commander."

She nodded. "Joining us for a drink? I think we could all use one."

He dipped his head. "Certainly feels like one of those days." He ran a hand through his hair, looking nervous. "Do you know when the others will be back? I can't help but feel like they've been gone too long for what should have been a simple trip."

"I've had the same worries," she said as they headed to the doors. "But I know those woods are a maze, and I've learnt that nothing we do is every simple. But I'll head out tomorrow morning if they're not back tonight; you're welcome to join me, of course."

"Thank you," he said softly.

"For now, we celebrate," she said, squeezing his shoulder.


	41. About Bloody Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are, at the smut, at last. 
> 
>  
> 
> There is a lot of build up just before the smut - and I want to give a warning for that part because it could be triggery. Olivia starts explaining her past in this chapter, and will briefly discuss the village that was wiped out by a blood mage - the bodies of children and babies are mentioned in this section - if that is not something you want to read at all then SKIP a few lines ahead if it looks to be getting too graphic. I don't spend ages on it, but it's there. So you have been warned. 
> 
> Anyway, yes there is smut this chapter and a bunch of other stuff. It's a long chapter, my longest yet so I hope you all enjoy it! Please comment, especially if you have come all the way from Ff.net just to read the naughty bits. I've been nervous about posting this all week and it has gone through so many edits... but I am done. It is being posted!
> 
> So enjoy. 
> 
> Thank you to Orchidellia, Riki and Cathy for the comments this week, love you guys and to everyone bookmarking, subscribing and leaving kudos, it's massively appreciated! And a huge thank you goes out to ElyssaCousland, Valauthiel, Shadowfire_RavenPheonix and the Da Writers and Reviewers Group for betaing and helping with this update. - Yeah, lots of people, told you I was nervous! 
> 
> Alright, alright, I'll shut up.
> 
> ...

He probably shouldn't have looked, but they were all scrunched up in the bin just  _begging_  to be read. He definitely should have stopped when he saw who they were to, but again he had carried on reading them all anyway. They were Neri's letters to Zevran, her mysterious elven lover. Most of them had been just a few lines written out; her trying to find the right words to start her letter with. But one wasn't really a letter at all, more like her throwing all of her thoughts down onto paper. He had expected it to make him angry and jealous, and it did, a bit… or quite a lot at first, but then he had realised just how much Zevran had  _helped_  her. The Crow had been there for her when Anders was locked away, he had helped her when all Anders was likely to do was complicate things, he had helped her recover, to heal, when Anders would likely just cause more pain and suffering. He had made her smile and laugh and  _move on_  from Albert and the Tower. Something Anders doubted he would have been able to do; he was a constant reminder of her past. Without Zevran, Anders may never have gotten Neri back in his life at all, or at least not the Neri he knew and loved.

There was one line that he kept mulling over, however:  _There are things you don't yet know, amore… I need you to come back to me._

Anders assumed she was referring to himself… but he couldn't be certain, especially as she had clearly started crying at some point, if the smudges on the page were anything to go by, and that made him frown with worry.

Ser Pounce made himself known by purring against his arm, nudging it insistently. He smiled at the cat and stroked him. "Come on, Pounce, let's get you some din-dins," he said as he scooped the cat up. Neri's hound lifted his head from the ground and Anders chuckled. "You too, come on."

He headed down to the main hall where the other Wardens were already eating and drinking away. He would have joined them sooner, but Neri had been gone for days now… To say he was a little worried was an understatement, but the others didn't seem too concerned if the way they were celebrating was anything to go by. But staying in Neri's room where it smelled like her… made him feel better; using her overly large tub for a nice refreshing bath didn't hurt, either.

" _Anders!_ " Arietta slurred at him, lifting her flagon into the air, spilling drink down its edge. "You joining us?" she asked leaning forward heavily.

"Nope! I'm not actually standing here right now," he teased.

"Then I am much drunker than I thought," she laughed loudly.

"You gonna drink, mage?" Oghren asked. "You're far too sober for a celebration!"

"Says the perpetually drunk dwarf," Anders snorted. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen you drink anything  _but_  alcohol."

"Heh, wouldn't be much of a dwarf if I didn't."

"Did I ever tell you that Schleets like to prey on drunken dwarves the most?"

" _Andersss_ , you're as bad as Neri!" Arietta drunkenly scolded.

He smirked. "And who do you think taught her everything she knows?"

Arietta giggled into her drink and Anders grinned as he popped into the kitchen to grab some dinner for Pounce and Barkspawn.

He came back out and took a seat at the table; he put a bowl of food on the ground for the hound and slowly hand-fed Pounce in his lap, softly cooing to him.

"You spoil that cat," Oghren grunted.

Anders looked up at him and arched a brow. "You're just jealous you don't have a majestic feline to take care of."

"Ha! I don't need a stupid animal when I can get any woman I want, Sparkle-fingers."

"Is that so? I could have sworn Sigrun shot you down the other day…. ' _Sleeping. Alone. With a knife under my pillow'_ , weren't those her exact words?" he asked, smiling smugly.

"Eh, oh. Ugh," Oghren huffed and chugged more of his drink. He then slammed it down on the table and wiped the froth from his upper lip. "She wants me, you'll see," Oghren grumbled back at the mage opposite him. The damn woman kept resisting him; he'd win her over, though. Sometimes it took a while for them to come around to his charm, but once they did… Oghren chuckled into his drink before throwing the rest of it back and belching.

"Justice was served upon those who would do you harm," Justice said to Arietta.

She grinned broadly. "It did feel  _very_  good. I'm glad my plan worked." She turned to Nathaniel. "We couldn't have done it without you, Howe."

He dipped his head, his skin blushing slightly from the alcohol. "Glad I could help, Commander." He was glad. This felt like a step in the right direction. With Delilah married, a child on the way and living in the city, it was up to him to repair their family's reputation. It would not be easy to do so, but this had most definitely helped.

Coline watched Nathaniel; the alcohol was affecting him too, making him more relaxed. He wasn't as tipsy as the Commander, though, but the drink had added colour to his cheeks and he was smiling more than usual. She rather liked it. And of course, that was the drink talking; she had clearly had too much. She set her glass down and fixed her hair before speaking. "Esmerelle's face was priceless when she realised her precious Crows weren't coming to assist her," she admitted gleefully; she rather hoped her father would look equally shocked when she finally told him she knew the truth.

"You'd think the Crows would give up trying to kill you, yet the blighters still keep coming at you," Oghren said loudly as he refilled yet another flagon.

"Some people will do anything for money," Rafael bitterly muttered before letting out a sigh. He could still see Percy's smug smile when he closed his eyes and hear his cruel laughter when it grew quiet. Only Max's warm embrace and grinning face would clear his mind of such dour thoughts, but Max and the others  _still_  weren't back. Whatever was attacking the caravans was clearly more trouble than they had realised. He briefly wondered if these intelligent darkspawn had sprung yet another trap, but he pushed that thought down; Neri was with them, the Slayer of the Archdemon, and if anybody could deal with darkspawn it was her.

Coline's hand came to rest on his arm, drawing him out of his thoughts. "He still lives, doesn't he? You never did find him."

Rafael nodded. "Yes, he is still alive, unfortunately."

"You would kill him, then, if you got the chance to?" she asked, genuinely curious. Rafael so rarely spoke of his past lovers, especially not of Percy and the betrayal. It was a topic she was most interested in hearing but she knew better than to push him for information.

He shook his head slightly. "I'd want answers first.  _Then_  I'd kill him."

"Are you certain? The more I think about getting a confession from my father, the more I think I'd rather he just die silently before he has a chance to fill my head with more lies," Coline said, scowling slightly.

"You really believe he did all of that for money?" Nathaniel asked her, leaning close enough to her that she could smell the ale on his breath.

She nodded. "So it seems." She craned her head to the side as she looked at Nathaniel. "You don't know your father's reasons for his actions, do you?"

"My sister thinks he was mad with power and seems to require no further explanation for his actions…I believe her but I cannot picture it," he said softly. "The father I knew was proud, quiet, unassuming. He was always so formal. I looked up to him. I don't understand what changed in those few years that I was gone, nor will I ever get answers."

Arietta leaned forward, a sympathetic smile on her face "When I asked him why he did what he did, all he said was ' _because I could_.'" She scowled at the memory. "Power, money, control… it makes people do horrible things," she said sadly.

"It isn't always because of those things, either," Olivia said quietly.

"You were betrayed too?" Arietta asked, a brow arched in question.

Olivia nodded and then took a long pull of her drink, the alcohol was loosening her lips, but part of her wanted to talk about it, wanted to get it off of her chest. Only Lenny knew the whole truth, with betrayal so heavily weighing on everyone's minds, it would usually be with  _him_  that she spoke about this sort of thing with. But he wasn't here. Wasn't back yet. He was still out with Neri and the others. She was trying not to worry, trying not to freak out, but it was hard – she  _missed_  him.

"It's how I ended up as a Warden," she finally answered. She took a deep breath. "The village that was destroyed by a blood mage, leaving me the only survivor… I survived because – because he was my boyfriend at the time." Olivia sighed but didn't bother looking up at the faces of her companions; she didn't want to see their reactions, the shock, the pity. She just wanted to keep talking.

"We had been together for over a year. He was my first love, I was so smitten. We had a cottage together in the village, just a couple of houses down from my parents. Jerrick was his name. We were trying for kids but nothing was happening, I thought that I was the problem; it made me feel like a failure of a woman, a disappointment to my parents, as if only being good at hitting things wasn't bad enough already…"

She swallowed thickly. "Jerrick hated seeing me so sad all of the time. I knew he was a mage and he had tried everything to fix my infertility. Nothing worked. In the end I just resigned myself to the fact that we wouldn't have children but he didn't give up. He called in a few favours… a healer, an apostate, came to our village and examined me. He told us I was healthy, fine, that it must be Jerrick who was the problem. He did not take that well. But nor was there anything the healer could do, so he left and Jerrick was quiet for a long time.

"The distance between us seemed to grow like a physical thing. Yet again, he was the problem – being an apostate wasn't bad enough, he was now infertile as well. I tried to tell him it didn't matter, that as long as we had each other it would be alright, but I wasn't sure if he could even hear me, I think – I think he had already made a deal with a demon at that point."

"Olivia… you don't need to-" the Commander began.

"No. It's… I want to." She let out a harsh breath and steeled herself. "I decided I needed some space, needed to clear my head, so my brother and I went on a hike through the forests. It was a windy day, but warm and sunny. I felt better, clearer with him at my side, with someone I could talk to. We headed back late afternoon, smiling and laughing, reminiscing about our childhood. We were climbing the final hill that lead down into our village and we were hit with this smell – I will never forget it, just the overwhelming stench of rot and blood and death, that horrible metallic smell that sticks to your throat and makes you gag. We ran to the top of the hill and there was just  _silence_. Nobody was out in the fields working, none of the children were playing in their gardens; we couldn't see anyone at all, but that stench still clung to the air.

"We walked down the hill slowly, still not seeing anyone from our village. My heart was pounding in my chest; I had no idea what was going on but there was just this overwhelming sense of  _wrongness_. It was as we got around the back of my cottage that we saw – we saw Jerrick.

"He – he was just standing there, his palms coated in blood as he stared  _smiling_  down at the bodies of everyone in our village. He had laid them all out in a circle, adults on the outside, and the- the children on the inside, with the babies closest to the centre." Olivia lifted a trembling hand to her face to wipe her tears away. "I couldn't take my eyes off of them all, couldn't believe what I was seeing. I was on my knees, wailing, but my brother, he… charged forward in a rush." She took a shaky breath. "Jerrick killed him, sending his own blood forward, just like Neri can do… he filled my brother's lungs with it, drowned him.

"That was it. I snapped. I screamed at him and he started ranting that he would be cured now, that we could finally have children. I just had to  _make lov_ e to him in the centre of the circle… He actually thought I would be pleased,  _willing_. He was not the man I had loved, not anymore; he was a monster. I – I pretended to agree. I got close to him. I  _kissed_  him, trying not to gag. And then I plunged a knife into his blackened heart. He died, eyes blown wide with shock, and then the demon took over and I had to fight it. I don't remember much else, too much of that day is a blur, but other parts of it are burned into my mind.

"The Templars came a few days later, took me back to the city. The Wardens spoke to me, told me that Jerrick had been a Warden before he killed another of their own. That, at least, explained his infertility; they had never told him that being a Warden would do that to him. I had wanted to join the Templars after that but they told me I had too much anger, and so the Wardens offered me a place and reluctantly, I accepted; I had nothing else. I resented them for a long while but they gave me purpose, helped my anger to abate."

Olivia swallowed thickly. "My point was that sometimes people don't even realise they're betraying you."

Arietta squeezed her hands. "I am  _so_  sorry."

Olivia nodded sadly.

They all drank silently for several long minutes.

Anders looked around the table; everyone looked far too miserable considering the fact that they were supposed to be  _celebrating_  their victory over the nobles' poor attempts at assassination. "Well,  _this_  is cheery," he drawled sarcastically.

"Surely we should be planning our next move, not wasting time getting inebriated?" Justice said to them all, his features shifting into a disapproving frown.

Anders snorted. "Oh you're just cranky because you can't get drunk!"

The spirit glared at him. "The darkspawn  _must_  be stopped."

"Nobody's debating you there, Wrinkles," Anders drawled. "One night off is hardly going to make much of a difference, is it?"

"He speaks the truth," Arietta said in agreement. "We don't know where this Mother is, nor do we know  _what_  the Architect is."

"Well let's sodding go find them," Oghren said, getting antsy as the alcohol made him sway in his seat.

Arietta rubbed her temples. "We don't even know  _what_  they want, Oghren. If we did, then  _perhaps_  we could set some kind of trap for them for once and get some answers, but we don't know what they want."

"They want Warden blood," Neri suddenly proclaimed from the dining hall doorway. They all turned to face her; Anders and Arietta both rose to their feet as they noticed the bandages covering Neri's arms and the pale colour of her skin. She waved them off and behind her Lenny, Sigrun, Maxime and another elf entered the room. Rafael and Maxime immediately embraced, followed by Lenny and Olivia. Anders approached Neri and let out a wave of healing magic, which she thanked him for before she faced the table again.

" _What happened?"_  Arietta asked, hands on her hips.

Neri sighed, looking wearier than Arietta had ever seen her. "We met the Architect."

The room erupted with noise; endless questions on their lips.

Neri silenced them with a wave of her hand. "Firstly, everyone, this is Velanna, Velanna this is everyone," she said as she glanced at the elf behind her. Velanna nodded at everyone.

"That was a  _terrible_  introduction," Maxime said with a smirk, making Neri roll her eyes.

" _What_  happened?" Arietta repeated more firmly, worry giving her voice an edge.

Neri glanced at her and swallowed thickly. "The darkspawn killed Velanna's clan and then framed some bandits for the crime. Velanna was the one attacking the caravans." Neri glanced at Arietta. "Yes, we managed to save some bloody Orlesian silks." She ran a hand through her hair. "The darkspawn  _wanted_  us to go there, they set the whole thing up. We thought… we thought we could handle walking into the trap because we  _knew_  it was a trap but we were… mistaken. The Architect is a powerful emissary. More powerful than any I've encountered before. It put us to sleep, locked us up, experimented on us…"

"They kept Neri separate," Max added, glancing at her wearily. "And when we escaped they dragged her away…"

Neri folded her arms, scowling at him.

"Maker, Neri!" Anders hissed.

"Why did it want you?" Arietta asked, already knowing the answer.

"Do you need to ask that? What else do they do with females?" Neri said bitterly.

Arietta frowned. "But only you? Not Sigrun or Velanna?" Neri sighed and Arietta paced back and forth. "You said they experimented on you…" Arietta murmured, running a hand through her hair. "They took your blood, then?" she asked, pointing at the bandages they all still wore on their arms.

"Yes," Neri said tiredly.

"We think they're using Warden blood to make the darkspawn intelligent," Maxime said gravely.

"Maker," Arietta cursed as she paced.

"We f-found diagrams," Lenny said, dropping the parchments and diaries onto the table. "They aren't in any language w-we can understand but we think that's why they t-took our blood."

"There were darkspawn there that seemed to be half way between intelligent and not; they were mumbling and seemed confused, like the Architect was experimenting on them too," Max added grimly. "They also stole all our stuff – ruined my boots with their foul taint," he grumbled under his breath.

"The Architect got away," Sigrun spoke up as she took a seat next to Oghren. The dwarf opened his mouth to speak and she glared at him. "Not now, Oghren." He clamped his mouth shut and started mumbling about resistant women.

"And it wasn't alone. Velanna's sister was with it along with a female dwarf and a  _really_  annoying crow," Maxime said with a frown.

"Annoying crow?" Rafael asked, also frowning.

"It tried to peck my eyes out, so yes,  _very_  annoying."

"Whatever used blood magic on the messenger and on Max also used it on me…" Neri stated. "I can't recall what I saw or heard or experienced but I know it must have been important," she said, clearly frustrated. "The Architect did suggest that it was a  _she_ , though."

"Crows and blood magic, doesn't that sound like Morrigan, to you?" Arietta whispered.

"No. It wouldn't make sense to be her, she  _did_  the Ritual – she wouldn't want answers from me about it," Neri replied firmly. "Assuming they're even connected. This is all speculation."

"I hope you're not suggesting we use you as  _bait_ , Neri," Arietta said, levelling her icy blue gaze at her.

Neri groaned slightly. "Trust me, getting dragged off again by darkspawn is the  _last_  thing I want. But… it  _would_  draw the emissary out of hiding, I think."

"But that still leaves the Mother," Rafael pointed out.

"I'm not putting you, or anyone else, in harm's way. End of discussion," Arietta said firmly.

"Fine by me," Neri said with a snort. Maxime shot her a look and Neri sighed and looked up at Arietta. "There's more, though. I need to talk to you in private; you too Anders." She turned and left the hall, not giving them a chance to question her. She didn't want to do this as it was; looking at them, seeing the worry in their faces was only going to make it worse. She reached Arietta's office and sat down on the sofa, only to immediately get back up again and pace instead.

Anders walked in with Arietta just a few moments later.

"Neri… what's wrong?" Arietta apprehensively stated, closing the door behind her.

Neri's tawny eyes darted between Arietta's blue and Anders' amber eyes, and then she took a deep breath. "The Archdemon altered the taint in my blood."

Arietta frowned and Anders watched her pensively.

"My ability to sense Wardens and darkspawn is…heightened. It's why I mistook you and Alistair several times for darkspawn the first few months after the Blight ended," Neri admitted sheepishly.

Arietta's eyebrows arched and her rosy cheeks flushed. "Is that why you… ran in on us that one time when we were -?" Her cheeks flushed.

Neri could feel her ears turning pink as she shuffled her feet and chuckled. "Yeah, it's stronger when you're hurt or in danger, or… _excited_ ," she added with a smirk. Arietta turned crimson and Anders stifled a giggle. "I can also identify different darkspawn more effectively now."

"Like during the attack on the Keep, the others seemed surprised you were able predict exactly what was on the other side of the doors," Anders guessed and Neri nodded.

"But  _why_  are you suddenly able to do all of these things?" Arietta asked with a confused frown.

Neri looked at them both with doleful eyes. "The taint in my blood is more potent… more  _advanced,_  since I killed old Archie."

"What does that mean?" Anders inquired, his expression darkening as a frown marred his face.

Neri swallowed thickly. "I spoke to Avernus before coming to the Keep; he said the taint in my blood is equivalent to that of a Warden whose been in the Order fifteen years or so." She looked at them both as she let that sink in.

Arietta twigged straight away and started shaking her head. " _No_  - Tell me that doesn't mean what I think it means," she said as her voice began to crack, tears prickling the corners of her eyes.

Neri looked shook her head, her lip quivering before she spoke. "It's not  _so_  bad," she said as confidently as she could, trying for a smile. "I have like fifteen years left to live, which is… something."

A sob ripped through Arietta. "What about Avernus? He will find a cure, he  _has_  to find a cure," she said through her tears. "It's why we spared him!"

Neri gave her a sad smile. "He will keep looking, but there's no guarantee he'll find one in time. I…told him to prioritise curing our infertility instead."

Arietta let out a strangled cry. "Why would you do that?"

Neri squeezed her friend's shoulder. "Because you and Alistair need an heir," she replied, quietly.

"Neri…" Arietta sobbed as she pulled the mage into a tight hug.

Anders stared at them both. He couldn't formulate words; his entire world had just crumbled around him. The woman he loved was dying of a terrible sickness, and despite his talents for healing there was  _nothing_  he could do. Neri was acting calm and in control, she was being strong for them both, but he knew how she really felt.

"This is the catch you spoke of before, in your office?" he croaked. "The consequences you keep mentioning to the others.  _Your_  consequence."

She pulled apart from Arietta and nodded her head. "It was still very fresh in my mind when we first talked."

"Why didn't you  _tell_ us?" Arietta asked, her voice cracking with anger instead of tears.

Neri stared at the ground. "I  _couldn't_. I didn't want to think about it, let alone discuss it." Her nose crinkled. "Talking about it somehow made it more  _real_  and that was the last thing I bloody-well wanted." She shook her head and then peered up at them sheepishly. "You know what I'm like. I bottle things up, hide stuff. It's a bad habit from the Tower, but it's also how I cope with shit like this."

"By ignoring it completely," Arietta sighed.

Neri shrugged. "It's – I was angry, at first. Morrigan promised me we'd all be safe, that we'd all be  _fine_. Either she's got a vastly different definition of  _fine_  than me, or she didn't know about this particular aspect of the Ritual. Flemeth would know, though, but I have no idea where she is or if she'd know how to reduce the taint in my blood.

"Something - the Ritual, killing the Archdemon, the blood magic - did something to my blood to make it different from any other Warden's.  _That_  is why the Architect wanted me, specifically. If we go with the assumption that it can use Warden blood to create these…intelligent darkspawn, then I guess my blood is best at it, maybe? Which leaves me to conclude that it wanted to turn me into a… well, you know."

"Maker, Neri," Arietta hissed out. "And you've kept this to yourself all this time?" she said, her eyes teary.

Neri shrugged a shoulder. "I'm sure I would have told you, eventually…Maybe just before my Calling," she chuckled darkly.

Arietta winced. "Don't say that. We're  _going_  to find a cure, do you hear me?"

Neri smiled at her sadly. "Ari…"

"No. I won't hear it. I won't  _allow_  it."

Neri sighed. "If that helps you sleep at night, then, fine."

"You have to believe it too, Neri. You can't resign yourself to…  _that._ "

"I'm not. I won't. But I don't want to fool myself with blind hope, either."

Anders looked up at her, those amber depths of his dark and filled with more sadness than she had ever seen in them. "Whatever you need, I'm here for you," he said softly. Arietta nodded her head in agreement.

Neri gave them both a small smile. "For now, it has more advantages than disadvantages. In time the nightmares will get worse, though, and eventually I will have to go on my Calling..." Neri rubbed her neck as she sighed. "A lot can happen in fifteen years though; maybe I'll die of some other horrible disease or get assassinated by this mysterious enemy of mine," she joked lightly, but Anders and Arietta just grimaced.

"Don't say such things, Neri," Arietta whispered.

Neri sniffed and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. "Either way, we have work to do, darkspawn to figure out and all that."

Arietta nodded, wiping a stray tear from her eye too. "You should get some rest; it sounds like you've had a miserable few days."

"Quite the opposite compared to you lot, I assume, considering you haven't been assassinated and all."

Arietta gave her a weak smile. "A tale for tomorrow, I think. Go to bed."

Neri nodded. "Good night, Commander." Her eyes flicked up to Anders who was scowling at the ground. "If you're done glaring at the floor, Anders, I could use a hand up the steps."

He jerked into action, his arm snaking around her waist to support her as they left Arietta's office.

He helped her up the stairs, and walked her to her door, then stood awkwardly, staring at the ground, his back slightly arched as he glared at the ground once again.

"Anders?" she asked softly.

The way she said his name held so much weight, asked so many questions:  _are you okay? Are we okay? What are you thinking? Please stop scowling at the tiles_. She lifted her hand to his face, and her touch was so warm and gentle; he lifted his gaze to look upon her freckled face.

She watched him swallow, and then scowl slightly. "We had all that time in the Tower together… and I squandered it," he said despairingly, his scowl deepening into a frown. "And now…" He ran a hand through his golden-red hair, his usually amber eyes turned dark as chocolate as they stared down at her, his hand lifting to cup her cheek. "I don't want to waste another second."

Her lips parted slightly and she pressed her cheek into his palm, his touch warming her to her core.

"Tell me what you need," he begged, his voice low and husky.

" _You_ ," she whispered.

His mouth crashed down onto hers, his usually soft lips hard with eagerness, and she pushed up onto her tiptoes to deepen the contact, a low moan sounding out from within her chest at seeing him so desperate for her. It was a kiss unlike any they had ever shared, any she had ever experienced, so passionate and hungry, one with the heat of a thousand suns behind it; meant to make up for all of the kisses that could have been, and that never were. That never _would_ be.

Her dainty fingers threaded up through his luscious blond locks, purring in satisfaction at the silky softness of those long tresses and the ragged moan it drew out of his mouth as she kneaded his scalp with feather-light touches. She pulled the tie from his hair, letting it drop to the ground; his blond strands fell around his face, framing his stubbled jaw. Those gentle healers hands of his brushed over her hips, pushing up the rough cotton of her shirt until they grasped the bare skin of her lower back; she shivered and found herself pressing closer to the warmth and support of his tall frame, her hands tugged his hair, pulling his head back, causing his lips to part so that her tongue could slide into his hot wet mouth.

He pushed her back against her door, and the wood creaked and groaned as she shuddered against it; his tongue swirled over hers, driving her tongue back past her own lips, his following close behind, savaging her, as it swept over every recess of her open and wanting mouth.

The door-handle stabbed into her back and she groaned, reluctantly pulling a hand away from his hair so that she could throw open her door. She briefly fumbled with the handle, thoroughly distracted by that long talented tongue flicking across the roof of her mouth, and then the door was flying open behind her and she stumbled back through it as Anders surged forward like a torrent of water, before he kicked the door shut, lips never leaving hers, both of them already panting.

Her scent was overwhelmingly strong with elfroot, but instead of making his nose wrinkle, it made his nostrils flare; that scent was so familiar to him as a healer - almost comforting - and underneath it all was _her_ scent. A hint of vanilla and some strange spice he didn’t recognise, but mostly it was just her musk and the overpoweringly strong aroma of sex that always seemed to cling to her; it never failed to drive him mad with lust, and his hands gripped her ass firmly, giving it a rough squeeze that saw her groaning into his mouth and moving closer to his body.

He hooked his thumbs over the waistband of her leggings, and began to tug them down, one side then the other, inch by inch, slowly revealing her soft skin. She wiggled her hips, trying to hasten the removal of her clothes but he nipped on her lip, scolding her. He had waited too long for this moment, and now that it was here, he would not see it rushed; done and over in the blink of an eye.

He finally got the leathers down so that they sat just below the curve of her pert little behind, and then his hands were back to caressing her baby-soft skin, rubbing small circles into the pliant flesh; Neri shuddered, her whole body quivering, the hands lost in his hair tightening as she fisted clumps of the long strands, a groan tumbling from her lips, lost to his mouth.

He pushed her leggings down further, enough that she could shrug out of them, leaving them in a pile on the ground. She shoved Anders back against the door, breaking their kiss with a smirk as he hit the door hard, what little breath he had in his lungs leaving him in a rush of air.

She gazed up at him, drinking in the rosy hue on his cheeks and his darkened hooded eyes. She was thankful he wasn’t in robes, instead in a similar outfit to her: a soft oversized linen shirt and leathers with a dark blue robe tied loosely around his waist. She untied the cord that was keeping the thick wool robe tied around him, pulling it slowly through the loop; his robes fell open and her eyes roamed over the smattering of blond hair poking out through the top of his shirt. She nearly made a comment but the look in his eyes distracted her quite thoroughly.

He was watching her; his gaze heavy and hypnotic, eyes half-lidded, the amber molten and swirling around dark lust-blown pupils. She swallowed; neither of them had ever done this before - the whole slowly undressing one another thing. In the Tower everything was fast and rushed, just the thought that they could really truly take their time with one another was enough to make her core throb with want, her whole body practically quivering in anticipation.

She pushed her hands under his shirt, letting them slide up the soft skin coating his hard abs, relishing the shiver it brought forth in her lover. She bunched the fabric up; wanting it off as it slowly exposed the delicious lines of his pelvis and the little trail of blond hair that disappeared under his breeches. He shrugged the robe off of his shoulders in response, letting it pool at their feet, and then she was dragging the shirt up and over his head, briefly holding it at his wrists so she could pin his arms loosely above his head and kiss him; their tongues mingled once more as she pushed up onto her toes, pressing her body to his bared skin, moaning as his warmth flooded through her.

Neri pulled back a moment later to admire how Anders looked pressed against her door, all breathless and bared to her, arms still above his head, making the muscles of his chest flex with every shudder that coursed through him; she still remembered every line, every curve, every beauty mark and imperfection, like it was just yesterday that they were fooling around in the Tower. Her gaze followed the golden hair on his chest, all the way down to the little trail that led lower, past those slim boyish hips of his, down to his leathers. Her tongue instinctively darted out to lick her lips as her eyes roamed over the tented fabric of his breeches, her own need throbbing almost painfully between her legs in response. How had she kept away from him this long?  _Why_  had she?

“I love you,” she murmured against his lips before she kissed him softly, suckling on his lower lip just hard enough to pull a groan from his throat. His arms wrapped tightly around her back, his shirt somewhere on the floor now, crushing her to him; his heat was overwhelming, all consuming.

His hands found her hair, tugging her head back with a fisted handful that had her gasping in delight before his tongue delved possessively into her mouth, stealing the breath from her burning lungs. And then the room was spinning and suddenly she was the one against the door with Anders pressed tightly to her, one of his thighs pushing her legs apart, making her keen as her smalls were flooded with her arousal; Anders seemed to notice the sudden wetness of her panties, that leg of his pushing harder against her, a throaty groan rumbling through his chest as that tongue invaded her mouth once again.

Slowly, he began to untie the lace of her leather jerkin, his long fingers making short work of it, and then he pulled it from her slowly, just as she had done with his robe until, it too, was piled on the ground, leaving her in just her, probably filthy, shirt. He stared down at her, a half-smile curving his soft lips.

“You look incredible like this, Neri,” he husked.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if we hadn’t found a stream on our way back to wash in,” she shot back, smirking.

He chuckled. “I dunno, sweaty, filthy sex sounds kinda hot.”

“That’s true. Remember when you got out of three months solitary?”

He smiled. “You jumped me before I could even bathe,” he recalled.

“I missed you,” she said simply, big brown eyes staring up at him so open and honest.

“And I you,” he whispered against her throat, his tongue licking a path of devastation up the creamy column of her neck, and then that talented tongue was sliding up the shell of her ear with one long, smooth stroke that saw a shudder rock her entire frame.

One by one, he began undoing the buttons on the front of her shirt, his knuckles brushing against the slowly-being-revealed skin of her chest, but she was too distracted by the tongue sliding along her ear to really pay those hands of his much attention. It was when he took the entire tip of her ear deep into his mouth that her knees buckled and she cried out, her fingers gripping his bared chest in order to stay on her feet.

He smiled around the tip of her ear, holding her trembling body against his as he continued to draw that point in and out of his wet mouth, letting his tongue flick across the tip or into the shell of her ear so that her whole body shuddered in response, a moan falling from her swollen lips.

“I love your ears,” he murmured at her hairline, before taking the little lobe into his mouth to suckle on it. Neri only groaned in response, her core grinding against his hard length, the dampness of her smalls making him let out a breathy groan against her ear.

Her shirt landed at her feet and she shivered, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end; her breastband fell to the ground next and then Anders was pulling back to look down at her. In that moment, with everything she had just been through, she felt oddly vulnerable. But that vulnerability melted away when Anders smiled at her, a smile so full of love and warmth and _need_ that she felt utterly cherished and safe.

He couldn't help but grin like a mad man as he stared at her; she was just as he remembered her being: slim, all subtle lines and gentle curves, perky breasts and coral, already taut nipples, desperate to be touched. Her neck and shoulders were speckled with freckles, her ever-so-slightly sun-kissed skin, warm and so soft. There were a few extra scars here and there, and bandages on her arms, but she was still Neri.  _His_  Neri.

He cupped her face, dragging his finger along her narrow jaw and then up the long edge of her ear, relishing the little shiver it elicited, before he leant down and kissed her softly, tenderly, letting his tongue roll languidly through her mouth, their lips sliding past each other. She moaned quietly, her hands moving up his chest before wrapping around him and tugging him closer. He poured all of his love into the kiss, all his passion and want. Maker, it felt  _so good_  to be with her at last.

"I love you," he whispered against her lips, letting their hot moist breath mingle between them. She moaned, her lashes brushing his cheek as her eyes opened to stare up into his; they were dark and teary as she took a shuddering breath.

" _Make_  love to me, Anders," she pleaded.

He leaned in and kissed her neck, his heart fluttering in his chest at her words – never before had he thought he would be able to do this; they were both Circle Mages – love was not something he ever thought he would be able to show so openly, but right now, they were about as free as they were ever likely to be. And it felt good. It felt _right_. All mages should be allowed this, they shouldn’t have to live in fear; it made him so angry whenever he thought about it. She groaned as he bit down on her pulse point, her nails digging into his back in response.

“ _Please_ ,” she whispered, her head lolling to the side so he could kiss and lick along her freckled throat.

“I will savour every moment I have with you, love,” he said through gentle kisses, part of him still not believing this could last; moments of happiness rarely did.

“Tormenting me for the rest of my days is cruel, you know,” she chuckled, squeezing his ass encouragingly.

He groaned slightly, a shudder running through him. "How is this for torment?" he whispered huskily.

He pinched her nipple, letting sparks fly from the tips of his fingers in a move so sudden and intense that Neri practically screamed, head slamming back against the door as her back arched. He smirked down at her before he captured her mouth once more, holding her trembling form close to his, so close he could feel her hammering heart beat against his chest.

The kiss they shared, _all_ of the kisses they shared now, felt so different to the ones they’d had in the Tower. And he knew that the difference wasn’t that they loved each other more now, it was that there was nothing holding them back anymore. No fear. No Templars. No burned skin. No darkspawn – well, at least for the time being. It was just them, in the moment, a moment _long_ overdue.

He drew her lip into his mouth, nipping gently on the kiss-bruised tissue before letting his tongue slip over it, lavishing it with the care and attention she deserved. Not that Neri seemed all that bothered at this point about being cared for - she was a panting trembling mess - but he would anyway. He let more sparks fly and her cry shattered into a quiet little whimper as his hands soothed her breasts, kneading the soft flesh.

He kissed the corner of her lips, before moving along her jaw and then down her neck to suck hard on her fluttering pulse point hard enough to leave a mark, and that thought sent a new wave of arousal surging through his veins, making it feel like it was molten lava pooling between his legs rather than blood. She was his, at _last_. They were finally together. He let out a breathy moan against her bruised skin, kissing and licking his way lower, as she whimpered, still clutching his chest.

He placed soft little kisses all over her shoulders and the tops of her breasts, his tongue darting out to caress her freckled skin, and her hands slid up his neck, tangling in his hair again, those long slender fingers of hers kneading his scalp with gentle movements, making little shivers of pleasure travel all the way down his spine to the tips of his curling toes.

Neri squirmed beneath him. "Maker, Anders, if you're planning on kissing every _single_ freckle..."

He chuckled, and glanced up at her. "Only if you want me to, love."

"I  _really_  don't,” she laughed. “My freckles are fine; they don't need to be kissed better. My tits on the other hand..."

He smirked and then slowly licked his lips, before he drew a pebbled nipple into his mouth, suckling on it eagerly, making it pucker as his tongue slid over it. Feeling the shudder it called forth in Neri and the pleasing little moan that passed her lips as her fingers tightened in his hair, he groaned around that rosy little bud, drawing it deeper into his mouth. He cupped her other breast, taking the neglected nipple between forefinger and thumb, pinching it, and then he let more gentle sparks skitter across her breasts; she keened, her knees shaking and he had to hold her up with a hand around her back. Maker, he loved her like this, all cries and trembling limbs. Only problem was, Neri was too feisty to stay like that for long.

She straightened, looking at him with defiance in her eyes. “You’re not the only one with magic,” she challenged breathlessly.

A half-smile lit his face. “I hadn’t forgotten.”

He felt the Fade fizzle between them, crackling as their magics clashed, hers all force and indomitable power, usually a soothing surge of energy, and his, all teasing and sudden, sparks of lightning in an unexpected blast of sharp sensation.

Her force magic hit him like a gust of wind; he shuddered, nearly falling backwards as it washed over him. It tingled across his skin, making his hair stand on end, and then she let it travel lower to swirl over his swollen cock still straining against his leathers; he moaned, long and breathily, his head falling back as her magic continued to pour over him.

She still clung to him, even as her magic overwhelmed him, and he to her, one of his hands still at her breast, the other at the small of her back. He wasn’t going to give her the chance to be smug at the effect her magic was having on him; slowly, he let his magic build, and then he unleashed a current of electricity through her, sending it from one hand to the other, making sure it hit all of her sweet spots, before sending it back to his other hand, letting the endless thrumming current rock back and forth through her body. She all but collapsed, but he held her up, kissed her, swallowing her cries and keens.

It was a battle of wills as their magic fought for dominance, both of them shaking, shuddering and panting hard as their spells rocked through and swirled over them. She bit down on his lip, teeth breaking skin, her nails digging into his shoulders as he heightening the power of his current, letting it really hit that sweet spot inside her, until her whole body was tensing, close to coming undone.

And then she unleashed a blast of magic so strong that it made him stumble backwards, away from her. She took advantage of that, charging forward and shoving him back down onto the bed with a superior smirk on her lips.

Anders hit the mattress hard, his breath leaving him in a rush as she stood at the foot of the bed, hands on her hips. Slowly, she pulled down her smalls – the only piece of clothing she still had on – making a show of it, her confidence boosted by the effect it had on him.

He stared up at her, eyes roaming up her body, his cock throbbing painfully and his heart fluttering in his chest. She was beautiful with the dim light of the fire flickering across her body, the soft rays of moonlight filtering in through the window, illuminating her skin and her glistening slit, slick with her arousal, her hair a mess of flicks and curls, a bruise forming on her neck from his ministrations. He swallowed hard.

She watched him swallow, her lip stretching up further with her smirk as she stared down at him, letting her gaze drink in every lean inch of him splayed across the bed before her. His long lanky limbs, the smattering of hair over his chest and navel, his golden locks falling around his face, messy and seriously sexy, eyes dark, his gaze burning her skin with its intensity. She could stare at him like this all night long, but the throbbing between her legs dictated that she moved toward him.

Neri climbed onto the bed, crawling toward him, her dark eyes never leaving his, and then she straddled his thighs, watching as Anders lips parted as his breath hitched. She leaned forward, letting her hands slide up his sides, letting her magic tingle across his skin; he moaned, eyes closing briefly in surrender. She dragged her hands down his chest, nails lightly scraping his skin and he arched into the touch, eyes flying open with a soft cry.

She drew her hands down over the little trail of hair until she reached the laces of his damp and strained leathers. Her fingers brushed over his hard length and he groaned, biting on his lip, so she did it again; one long finger rubbing up the side of his straining cock, a move that saw him crying out, his hips kicking up into the touch.

“Frustrated? I could have sworn you said something about savouring this…” she teased.

He groaned. “This is just payback for all the teasing.”

“Is it?” she asked coyly as she pulled the lace undone with a slow and exaggerated move. She tugged the breeches open, freeing his cock from the tight leather, only leaving his smalls in the way. She yanked his breeches down, past his ass, dragging his smalls down with them, and finally his cock sprang free; the head glistening just a few inches from her face, beads of precum glistening at the slit, the veins bulging and dark.

She swallowed, and then her tongue licked across that little slit, lapping up those clear little droplets. Anders grunted, his whole body shaking, hands fisting the sheets, and she swallowed down the bitter little droplets with a purr.

Neri’s tongue swirled over the swollen head of his cock, that damned smirk playing about her lips as more ragged groans and grunts left his lips at the contact. It had been a _very_ long time since anyone had done this to him. A year in solitary plus the weeks he had been at the Keep for… he very nearly came undone then and there as her lips closed around that mushroom shaped head, her burning hot mouth taking only the crown past her lips, that fiendish tongue swirling back and forth over the extremely sensitive slit.

That smug look on her face made him grit his teeth and clench his fists in the sheets; this was revenge for nearly making her cum at the door. Neither of them wanted to go first; a stupid game they used to play to see who could last longer. With both of them Wardens now though, their stamina and control was stronger, and they were more stubborn than ever.

Neri let him fall from her lips, instead letting her tongue slide up the underside of his cock, tasting the salty musk that, despite being apart for so long, was still familiar to her. He shuddered, a groan rumbling in his throat, and then he sat up, startling her.

“Come here,” he demanded, pulling her up his body as he laid back down, his hands caressing her hips, her legs now straddling his waist instead. She tucked her golden hair behind her ears as she stared down at him, a soft smile on her lips. Her hot core was now pressed against his stomach meaning he could feel how wet she was and it made his cock twitch, wanting to be buried deep inside that slickness. She smirked, clearly feeling his manhood jump behind her, before she leaned down to kiss him, slow and unhurried.

His hands slid up her back, soft and warm, caressing the aches and pains still lingering there. He seemed to sense her soreness and let a wave of healing magic wash over her, and she let out a mewl of thanks as she continued to kiss him. Her tongue moved lazily through his mouth, licking, tasting and teasing him. Everything in the Tower had been quick and frenzied, and although she _did_ want to fuck him hard and fast, she knew that could wait, that this - this _moment -_ needed to be slow and loving; as different to the Circle as they could possibly make it.

Her hands slid up the side of his face, scraping across stubble, before they were lost to his hair; her long fingers massaging his scalp, drawing out soft little moans from the man underneath her. Anders’ hands moved down her back to squeeze her ass and she pressed back into his touch, rubbing her backside against his throbbing length hanging neglected behind her, making him groan loudly into her mouth.

Anders let a spark fly dangerously close to her back door and Neri cried out, throwing her head back. He grinned smugly, and then moved his hands up her back as he sat himself up; she responded eagerly, moving up and wrapping her legs around his waist, and her hands around his neck, before she kissed him again. His cock throbbed, now trapped between his stomach and her core; Neri ground her hips against him, dragging her wet folds up the underside of his shaft before sliding back down, whimpering softly.

" _Please_ ," she begged, as she once again dragged her burning wet heat along his length, desperate for more friction, and making him shudder. 

He stared into her dark, pleading eyes, trembling with restraint. "Anything for you, my love,” he panted out.

Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, her hands impossibly hot against his flushed skin, as she lifted herself up, chewing on her lip in anticipation; he took hold of his swollen length, lining it up with her burning hot core. He looked up into those big brown eyes of hers, his breath hitching, and then she slowly lowered herself down onto him. The tight muscles of her core resisted the head of his cock only briefly before she was sinking down onto his length with a moaned gasp, her inner walls parting and stretching as he filled her.

They both took huge gasping breaths once he was fully seated in her, her sheath tight and hot around him, her walls clenching and unclenching around his throbbing length. They clung to each other, both shuddering in one another’s arms as they both tried to resist moving before she had fully adjusted to the intrusion.

"I can't-" he rasped, barely stopping himself from grabbing her and pounding into her. He didn't want this to be like that; she was hurting and he needed to love her, to care for her, to treasure her.

Neri smirked, and then very slowly, she lifted herself up, dragging herself up his shaft, she gyrated her hips as she reached the head of his cock, letting it rub against her sweet spot in a way that saw the both of them groaning and panting, and then she dropped herself back down, all the way to the hilt. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her as he flexed, driving himself deeper into her with each languid thrust, each of them simply enjoying the sensation of being together _at last._

She clung to him, her fingers digging deep into his shoulders as they kissed through panted breaths, their pace falling into a rhythm neither of them had ever shared: a slow, gentle pace, both of them savouring one another, holding onto this moment, afraid that if they let it go it would be gone forever. His fingers caressed her hips, running soothing circles over her skin, lavishing her with love as more of that teasing electrical current ran from one hand to the other in a way that had both of them shuddering and slowly falling apart around one another, _with_ one another. A silent promise on their lips that they would never let each other go, ever again.

Each slow thrust had the heat in her core burning a little brighter, a slow intoxicating blaze that was gradually spreading through her entire body, steadily overwhelming her, her orgasm building despite her movements keeping to their unhurried rhythm. Her eyes fluttered open to gaze into his as their hot panted breaths mingled together, lips just touching. His eyes were so dark, the amber burned close to black, his gaze so hot she felt like it could burn her with just a look; and they were, she was burning up, too hot and not hot enough. She wanted to feel his seed filling her, coating her inner walls, wanted to feel his body pressed tighter to her, his mouth leaving a trail of fire across her skin.

Her core fluttered around him, clenching down hard, drawing him in impossibly deep, his current of electricity adding an endless thrumming sensation that travelled through them both, making them shudder as it rocked back and forth over their most sensitive spots. His entire body was burning up, slowly being consumed by her and he couldn’t get enough of it; never had he made love before, he had always wondered what it would be like, how it would feel, but none of that could compare to this, to being with her like this.

Their kisses became more desperate, broken only by breathy moans and deep rumbling groans, by pants and quiet whimpers of pleasure as she continued to ride him, her hips gyrating in a way that had them both on the verge of release before she moved back down his shaft just before either of them could reach completion, but every thrust was driving them closer to the edge, ready for them to both jump together.

They were close, her thighs trembling against his sides where her legs locked tight around him, her walls squeezing him tighter with each stroke, and endless string of quiet pleading whimpers leaving her lips, and he could feel his balls tightening between his legs as fire burned down his back. Instead of driving them over the edge, though, Neri took her teasing gyrations up a notch, on the upstroke she rocked her hips so that just the sensitive head of his cock remained in her tight sheath rubbing against her sweet spot, and then she suddenly slammed herself back down, both of them letting out blissful cries of surprise.

She kept repeating her torturous dance of long, hard thrusts and teasing gyrations until they were both taut as bowstrings, ready to fire, so close but not quite close enough. He retaliated, upping the current flowing between his hands, letting sparks skitter outwards up across her skin to her breasts and down to that little bundle of nerves above her currently stretched and filled core.

The current of electricity running through them both and the sparks flying across her skin was enough to end them both; Neri finding release just moments before he did. Both of them crying out through their joined release, her head thrown back, muscles clenching and milking him, and Anders grunting and shuddering as his hot seed filled her, coating her inner walls.

He kissed her neck tenderly as she came down from the high of her orgasm, both of them slowly recovering, murmured words leaving his lips, whispering endearments into her ear. She shivered against him, burying her head into the crook of his neck and he wrapped his arms tight around her, holding her close to him, both of them breathless and sweaty.

He stroked her head, his eyes closing as their breathing began to steady, and then she lifted her head a little so she could look at him, a smirk at her lips, and then her muscles clenched around his surprisingly still hard length. He smirked back, rocking his hips encouragingly, and she moaned.

“Grey Warden stamina, hmm?” she mused giving him a crooked smile.

“Or perhaps I just can’t get enough of you,” he replied in a husky whisper before taking her lips with his once more.


	42. Possibilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and comments! So very glad you all liked the smut! <3 There will be more, in a little while.   
> And thank you Lys for being a fab betaaaa.

His eyes fluttered open and he smiled; it was early morning, and the grey haze of pre-dawn filtered in through the big window. The room was not cold, but not warm either, but it didn't matter because Neri was curled up peacefully next to him, snoring lightly. She looked adorable in sleep, her hair even messier than it usually was, all flicks and curls sticking up in odd directions.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead, breathing her in; she still smelled of elfroot from the potions she had been consuming and he sighed slightly. She started to stir, and he let out a wave of healing magic over her, hoping to ease any lingering discomfort she still felt. Her lips curved up into a smile and she began to stretch out, moaning softly, much like a cat might do. Those thick lashes of hers blinked open and her golden brown eyes found his; he smiled at her, his heart aching with longing. So much time had been wasted, too much time. He needed to make every minute count, savour every second, enjoy every moment with her.

"You're doing it again," she murmured through a yawn.

"Doing what?"

"That thing where you get all…  _wistful_ ," she explained.

He was surprised she could read him so easily, even half-asleep as she was. "Is that what I'm doing?" he asked, brow arched playfully.

"Mmm," she murmured. "I'm not sick, not sicker than any other Warden at least. So you can quit thinking about it all."

He smirked a little. "How do you know I'm not thinking about the time we were in the library and I-"

She snorted. "Because I know  _you._ "

"Humph." He mock-frowned as she slowly sat up, an amused smile on her face. "I could have been thinking about the future," he whined. "About all the things I can do to you now that you're mine."

That made her chuckle. "You  _could_ … but I'd rather not think about the past or plan the future. I'd rather live in the moment, here with you,  _now_." She leaned in to him, her hands sliding up his chest. "Because the good thing about that is, I can do this," she whispered against his lips, before kissing him tenderly.

Her hands wrapped around his head, tangling in his hair and he pulled her into his lap, deepening the kiss, making it more heated and desperate. He held her close, unwilling to let her go, his hands roaming over the bare skin of her back.

She ended the kiss, eyes closed as she rested her forehead against his. "Anders…" she said quietly, a strange edge to her voice. "The way you keeping thinking about it all. Are you certain this is what you want?"

He pulled back, staring at her, his brow furrowing. "Did you really just ask me that?"

"Well… yeah."

"I climbed down the outside of the  _Tower_  to reach you. Of course I want this – want  _you!"_  Her cheeks flushed with colour and she stared down at her lap. He put his finger to her chin and tilted her head so that her eyes met his once again. "Now who's the one worrying about the future?" he asked with a soft smile; she gave him a coy look in return.

"I was… just making sure," she mumbled.

"Neri, I want to be with you, I  _am_  with you," he said softly, hoping his words sounded earnest. "I don't want that to change. I only regret that I wasn't  _always_  at your side."

She hit him in the shoulder and he yelped in response, rubbing the bruising patch of skin. "You'll make me cry, you tit! Where's the snarky prick I adore?"

Anders laughed. "My prick's down there, love," he said glancing down at his crotch with a wicked grin.

"Ah, yes. How could I forget?" she said with a smirk as she started to kiss her way down his chest.

"Forgetting about him, and after all the hard work he put in pleasing you last night… someone's not getting morning sex now."

She giggled against his navel, looking up at him playfully. "Does that mean I get punished instead?" she asked suggestively and he gulped.

"No. You'd enjoy that too much."

She chuckled. "Then I must make amends  _at once._ "

Her head disappeared under the covers, and then hot lips closed around the tip of his length, making him gasp, his back arching off of the bed. Her wicked mouth got to work, taking him from a fairly respectable semi to hard in a few talented licks. He groaned as her head bobbed up and down, her shallow thrusts only taking the crown of his cock past her soft lips, teasing him. He gripped the blankets tight, crying out as he tried not to rock his hips too much as she suddenly swallowed him to the hilt.

"Maker, Neri," he gasped out.

She peeked up at him from under the covers, his cock buried deep in her mouth, her cheeks hollowed, and then she dragged herself back up his shaft, letting it fall from her mouth with a pop when she reached the head. She licked her smirking lips, slightly red in the face, her hair a mess, those big eyes of hers playful and dark with desire. She looked breath-taking.

He swallowed hard as she kissed and licked her way up the side of his cock, letting soft little moans pass her lips. "Am I forgiven yet, Ser Snarky Prick?" she murmured softly, before licking over the slit of his swollen head.

Anders groaned and moved, grabbing her and pushing her down onto the bed; he loomed over her, panting hard as she stared up at him, biting her lip coyly. She rocked her hips towards him, grinding rhythmically against his aching prick. " _Yes_ ," is all he breathed before thrusting into her.

**…**

Neri exited the steamy bathroom, drying off the strands of her wet hair; she loved baths almost as much as she loved getting messy enough to require one. And for a brief moment, she was relieved to see Anders sat lounging on the sofa in front of the fire, reading a book. His eyes roamed up her lithe frame and he gave her one of his trademark smirks.

She had thought it might be weird to have him here with her, to be in a relationship with him when their entire time together until now had been little more than a playful friendship, but it felt normal, it felt  _right_ , and that scared her. She had been worried –stupidly so- that he would leave her again as he had done time and time again in the Tower. But no, he really was here –  _staying_  here, and maybe thinking about the future wasn't such a bad idea, Maker knows she had a lot of things she wanted to do.

"We should go travelling when this is over," she blurted, surprising him. "See the rest of Thedas a bit."

He tilted his head slightly. "Can we do that? Just leave the Wardens, I mean?"

She came to curl up next to him and shrugged. "I killed an Archdemon; pretty sure I can ask for whatever I like."

He smirked. "And what is it you would like? Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere,  _everywhere_. If we do only have ten or fifteen years or whatever then we should make the most of it, together."

He smiled at her and kissed the top of her head. "I'd like that. We could try to find my mother; maybe… maybe she's still alive?"

Neri smiled. "And maybe the Templars at the Tower know who my parents are. I might be able to persuade them to tell me."

"You think your parents were mages, then?"

"Well, it would explain why I was raised by the Chantry."

"Good point." He paused a moment, staring down at his lap. "You could have brothers or sisters…"

Neri let out a short snort. "That  _would_  be something. But I doubt I do; everyone knows my name. You'd think a sibling would have sent a letter or something by now."

"True; you never know though."

She snuggled up against his chest and he wrapped an arm around her, drawing her nearer. She sighed happily, content to just watch the flames flickering in the fireplace.

**…**

Neri scowled down at the breakfast trolley that had been brought up to her rooms by an elven servant.

"Offended by the eggs?" Anders quipped as he came over to examine what was under each silver platter.

"Not the eggs, no, but what they represent." She sighed. She knew this would happen the moment she told anyone that she had a slightly-shorter-than-average-warden-life-expectancy.

"It's just breakfast in bed, love. Or it would be, if you stopped scowling at it long enough to bring it to the bed," he teased lightly.

"It's been given to me because Arietta pities me now. She thinks I'm sick, sees me as a victim. I am  _none_  of those things. I should be dead; killing the Archdemon  _should_  have killed me, but instead, I get fifteen more years to live. So I don't need pity eggs. Or pity bacon," she said as she grabbed a rasher of bacon and munched on it angrily as they headed to the bed.

Anders chuckled as he sat down on the bed with his plate of food, tucking in eagerly.

"And another thing!" she began, as she waved her bacon rasher in his face. "They forgot the baked beans! What am I supposed to dunk these delicious hash browns into now? If they're going to do a get-well-soon fry up, they should at least get it right!"

There was a knock at the door then, and Neri huffed as she hopped off of the bed to answer it. The elven servant who had delivered the trolley was back, this time holding a pot of baked beans.

"Oh for-!" Neri grabbed the beans and slammed the door in the elf's face before sighing and re-opening the door to apologise before politely closing it again. She stormed over to the bed where Anders was snickering.

"Let me guess, baked beans?"

"She knows me too bloody well!" Neri groaned as she sat back down on the bed and angrily dunked her hash browns into the beans. "I am only eating these because I am a Warden and require sustenance,  _not_  because I want or enjoy pity food. Is that clear, mage?"

Anders stifled his laughter, a hand over his mouth, cheeks reddening from the effort. " _Absolutely_. This pity food is  _disgusting_ ," he said in between snickers.

She huffed again and glared at the food as she ate it. "People always seem to cook me bacon and eggs when I've been through something shitty. Why are they everyone's go-to food to cheer people up?" she grumbled.

"Well, you can make a smiley face with the eggs and the rashers of-" She glared at him and he shut his mouth. "Right.  _Evil_  pity bacon," he corrected. "So who cooked you such a  _miserable_  meal last time?"

"Theo. Or his family did anyway.

"Who?"

"Oh, someone I met near Lothering. After Ostagar things were bad. They took me in."

"I think I heard Oghren mentioning this – he said a dragon saved you or something, but he was drunk at the time so I wasn't really paying attention."

Neri chuckled. "I was on the battlefield at Ostagar while Arietta and Alistair were sent to this tower to light the beacon. It was only because of my barrier and some seriously crazy luck that I survived the battle. But I was badly injured and wouldn't have made it far without Theo and his brother, Carver, helping me. And then yes, we had to flee not long after reaching their home because the horde reached Lothering, and yes, a dragon  _did_  happen to swoop down and save us all from the darkspawn."

"You're pulling my leg."

"I am not. The dragon was Flemeth, Witch of the Wilds. Theo and the others went on to Kirkwall where they had family, and I went on to find Arietta and Alistair."

"That is absurd. You realise how crazy that sounds, right?"

"Everything about the Blight was crazy and things are  _still_  crazy. The Mother, the Architect,  _talking_  darkspawn. Next thing we know there'll be demons stopping by for a cup of tea.  _Oh no, I just really like tea, I'm not here to possess you at all!"_  She let out a small sigh. "This is why we should go travelling. It will be better elsewhere," she said hopefully.

"Knowing our luck, we'll end up somewhere even worse."

"Pessimist," she retorted with a smile.

"Oh and you're an eternal optimist, are you?" he asked, arching a brow in amusement.

"Well I  _am_  always looking up," she pointed out with a laugh.

He snorted. "How come all the dwarves I know are such pessimistic grumps then?"

"You know like two, maybe three dwarves, Anders. And Oghren never looks up; he's still scared of the sky."

"And the ground now too, thanks to the Schleet story," Anders said with a toothy grin.

"Serves him right," Neri laughed. "I  _do_  want to travel though. To Antiva most of all. The things Zev told me about Antiva City; it sounds so beautiful," she said wistfully. "And I may have to go there myself to find his stupid ass if he doesn't answer my letters soon." She sighed heavily and then looked up at him. "Sorry. It must be… weird to hear me talk about him."

He shook his head. "Not  _weird_ … I understand and accept that you still love him. I can't ask you to change your heart, and I don't want you to. Part of me will always regret that it wasn't me with you during the Blight, but I am glad you had him to watch your back during all of the crazy shit you went through."

"That's entirely too reasonable of you," she teased.

"I can throw a jealous fit every time you mention his name, if you prefer?"

"That's much more in character; you're a very jealous person, dear."

He scoffed. "I am sure I have no idea  _what_  you're talking about."

Her eyebrows lifted as she smiled. "Anders, I saw you picking out a staff in the armoury. You grabbed the longest one there."

"I'm tall; I needed something suitable to my height," he argued, lifting his chin indignantly.

"Max's was longer. You realised it during training and immediately had the smith add a longer blade to the end."

He supressed his laughter. "You have no proof of that… _maybe_  Wade was feeling generous?"

" _Then_  you saw that Maxime's looked a bit like yours but in black instead of a boring brown and went and  _decorated_  your staff."

"I wanted it to look pretty!"

She tilted her head, an eyebrow arched. "Anders."

He burst out laughing. "That's  _one_  occasion I might have been just a  _tiny_  bit jealous; it proves absolutely nothing about the rest of me."

"Really? What about the time you and Solona were both  _pleasuring_  me? You stopped half way through to argue about who was pleasuring me more!"

He chuckled. "A bit of friendly competition is healthy… you certainly seemed to think so when we were done with you," he said huskily.

She snorted. "So I have you and Zev fighting over me like a scrap of meat to look forward to, do I?"

"A very delicious  _morsel_  of meat," he corrected with a wink. She kicked him playfully but he caught her foot and sent sparks flying up her leg. She screamed as she tried to wriggle away but he was too strong and soon had her pinned to the bed, their breakfast forgotten.

**…**

There was another knock at the door; Neri rolled her eyes and was about to get the door but Anders beat her to it, leaping to his feet fluidly. He opened the door to several servants carrying bouquets of flowers; they entered the room and started putting the vases down on any available surface they could find. Neri stared at them, completely bewildered, and Anders couldn't help but smirk; she looked adorable when she was confused.

Neri rose from the bed and read the card on the flowers.

_We blooming love you,_

_And we hope this brightens up your day, Petal._

_Love from everyone._

Neri sighed, completely exasperated.

Barkspawn walked in next, holding a big basket in his mouth.

"What the –" Neri said shaking her head as she relieved her hound of it.

At the top of the basket was an envelope with a message written on the front of it. " _It arrived this morning._ " She scrambled to open it and her breath hitched at the familiar writing within.

_Greetings -again- from the beautiful Antiva City,_

_These letters are so slow to send, no? Have the humans not figured out something faster than bird or ship yet? I feel like I am waiting weeks just to hear word from you. Replying, as it turns out, is also not so easy while hunting Crows! Ha ha._

_Ah but it is good to hear from you, cara mia. You worry me with your words; rest easy, tesoro, I am nearly done here. I have but one Crow left to interrogate before I am through. Then I will be all yours, yes?_

_When we speak next, it will be face to face, bella._

_Until then, you remain in my dreams,_

_Always yours,_

_Z._

She held the letter close to her heart and took a deep breath, smiling despite herself. She felt Anders watching her, and turned to face him with an apologetic smile.

"He's alright then?" Anders asked, already knowing who the letter was from.

"Yes. He says he's nearly done in Antiva."

"So… he'll be coming here soon?"

Neri bit her lip slightly then nodded. "Seems like it."

"And he doesn't know about me yet, right?"

"No… I'm not sure what he will think, to be honest, so I will tell him in person. I mean, we're on a break and I wouldn't blame him for falling into the arms of a beautiful Antivan… but I doubt he fell in love with anyone while away."

"You fell  _back_  in love, it's different," he pointed out.

She sighed and then picked out the next gift in the basket. It was a book titled:  _The Art of Cross-race Love-making_ , which made her shake her head and grin shamelessly. There was a note from Max saying ' _You taught me something, so Raf and I picked this out for you two as thanks. Enjoy,"_ with a little winky face. She smiled and skimmed through the book, laughing at some of the outlandish diagrams – positions even she hadn't tried before. She tossed Anders the book, smirking.

"We  _so_  have to try all of those," she said with a laugh.

He grinned as he glanced at the title of the book and his grin continued to widen as he looked through its' contents. "And here I thought we were quite imaginative…"

"Goes to show: we don't know everything," she mused.

She looked back into the basket and picked up a small note next that simply said ' _For your ears_.' She lifted the gift underneath and burst out laughing – ear mittens, which were actually just fluffy socks; just as Sigrun and Lenny had suggested. The next gift was a bottle of alcohol from Oghren; she recognised it as one of his homemade brews and smiled warmly as she tilted the bottle in her hand. She laughed again at Oghren's note which simply said:  _Figured you'd need a swig of something strong, Warden, after waking up to that mage's ugly mug.'_

She showed it to Anders who snorted and shook his head. "Remind me to leave some pants outside his bedroom door tonight."

Oghren's bottle had been resting on a pillow, which she pulled out next before reading the accompanying note: ' _In case you pass out from the dwarf's alcohol, try landing on this instead of the stairs._ ' She let out a groan as she remembered Rafael carrying her to bed her first night at the Keep.

She looked up at Anders, who was grinning mercilessly, and shook her head. "They are exasperating!"

He chuckled. "They're just being supportive."

She blew air out of her nose. "They're too damned nice; I bet this was Maxime's bloody idea."

She picked up another book at the bottom of the basket next. A note inside of the cover read: " _I know you are not Dalish, but I have been told you enjoy reading and thought you might appreciate something of more substance than that_ other _book. Velanna."_ Neri ran her hands over the carvings on the cover with a smile. It appeared to be a story book of elven legends, something that must have meant a lot to the Dalish. Her eyes got all watery again and she wiped them furiously. This was all too much – they all went too damned far!

Ser Pounce-a-lot then pranced into their room with a big purple ribbon tied around his fluffy ginger neck. Neri groaned as she picked up the ribbon and the small card attached.

 _Please come to the old elm at your earliest convenience_ , was all it said.

She took a deep breath, grabbed her dressing gown, shoved it on, and stormed down the stairs.

"They're going to get an earful!" she cried, half-joking. There was such a thing as hugging something to death, and she was starting to feel suffocated from all of the attention.

Anders followed after her in his own robe and slippers, laughing the whole way.

She threw the patio doors open and stormed through the gardens; she turned the corner and skidded to a halt. Every single Warden was standing under her favourite tree, grinning at her as she came into view. She tried to glare at them, but their happy faces were making that very difficult.

"Now, you listen here!" Neri said, trying to sound stern but failing spectacularly. "The gifts have been very sweet, and  _totally_  ridiculous, and I have had  _quite_  enough!" She stalked forward ready to point an accusatory finger at people. "I am  _not_  sick, I am  _not_  dying, not really anyway. I just have a shorter life expectancy is all. I do not need you all  _doting_  on me, or treating me differently or looking at me like I'm some kind of frail broken  _thing!_  So can we all just pretend I'm still me and get back to –"

Arietta was close enough to Neri to silence her with a finger to her lips. "If you're quite done with your adorable little rant…We were only sending you the gifts so you'd actually get out of bed," Arietta explained with a coy smile.

Neri gaped at her, and shook her head in confusion, her brow wrinkling.

"We wanted to give you something, and I promise it will be the last gift we give." Arietta pulled out another basket, and handed it to Neri.

Neri stared down at it with a slight glare, and then sighed. She lifted the top off and gasped.

"We all took blood samples this morning; I'll be taking them to Avernus shortly. If anybody can find a cure, it's him, and we all want to help with that. For you, for us, for every Warden."

Neri didn't know what to say; her eyes were filling with tears and her throat tightened with emotion. She placed the basket on the ground and then looked up at Arietta, pulling her into a tight hug. "Thank you," she rasped. Her eyes scanned the crowd of Wardens under the tree. "All of you," she croaked as she pulled out of her hug with Arietta.

"You should wear the ear mittens," Sigrun piped up. "I bet you'd look cute with them on."

"Although, they'll probably f-fall off, considering they're not r-really  _meant_  for ears," Lenny pointed out with a smile.

"Did you like the book we gave you?" Maxime asked cheerfully, holding Rafael's hand.

Neri snickered. "It was a very…  _interesting_  book, one I'm sure we'll put to good use," Neri replied, smiling roguishly.

"A waste of parchment," Velanna spoke up. "Mine is a much better offering."

"Oh please!" Maxime cried out. "Sex or a story? I know which I'd rather have!"

Velanna scowled at him. "They may be stories, shem, but they are more interesting than the picture book you gifted her."

"Picture book, she says!" Maxime huffed. "There are instructions too, you know!" he retorted with a flick of his head.

"Some of which are  _apparently_  quite complicated to follow," Rafael added with a smirk.

"Don't you dare!" Maxime laughed as he clapped his hand over Rafael's mouth.

Velanna made a disgusted noise as she rolled her eyes, and Neri grinned. "Both books were lovely, thank you."

She turned to look at Anders just as he pulled out a vial of blood from his dressing gown pocket. He grinned. "I took the sample earlier. Arietta knocked on the door while you were bathing and told me the plan," he said impishly. Neri chuckled and hugged him too, pulling back enough to kiss him hard on the lips. Most of her fellow Wardens cheered, but she heard a few groans too, and realised it was because of the bet they'd had going on.

Arietta cleared her throat. "Alright, everyone back to work; we have a lot still to do." Everyone sighed but began to move back inside. "And those of you who  _still_  owe me coin; I am certain this display is enough to prove to you that they are in fact truly together, so you better pay up!" she added, making a few unlucky Wardens groan.

Neri shook her head, grinning as Arietta turned to face her once more. "They're late with their payments," Arietta explained with a shrug.

"Honestly, what would Alistair say if he knew you were betting on your friends like this?" Neri asked with an arched brow.

"He put in five sovs," Arietta explained with a loud laugh at Neri's shocked face.

Anders then handed Arietta a sovereign with an impish smile and Neri smacked him in the shoulder. "You  _are_  a bloody pessimist!"

"Hey! In my defence, when I made this bet you were still hot and cold with me!" he whined with a grin on his face.

Neri shook her head. "So what happens now? With the Architect and the Mother, I mean."

"For once, I'm not really sure. Focusing on making the Keep's defences stronger is my priority for now. But I  _would_  like to go on the offensive, if possible once that is done."

"If we get the chance to," Neri sighed. "These darkspawn have been one step ahead of us every step of the way."

"I know. But we'll be ready for them next time," Arietta said firmly.

"So… Neri and I should probably get back to  _recuperating_  and  _researching_  important things," Anders said with a smirk and Arietta rolled her eyes in response.

"Go on. But I expect you both back at work tomorrow."

Neri grinned and kissed Arietta on the cheek before grabbing Anders' hand and running back inside with him.


	43. A Slight Detour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry I am late with this one, I do try to stick to Thursdays but I just ran out of time this week and it's possible this could happen again, I might actually have to swap to updating Fridays. Not sure. We'll see how it goes. 
> 
> Thanks as always to Lys and to everyone leaving kudos and bookmarking, subbing and commenting. It is seriously massively appreciated. I look forward to hearing what you think of this one... it's a little bit different to the game *grins* 
> 
> Also, I swear my chapters are getting longer. This fic is never ending! And it's only part bloody one. I blame Neri. It's /always/ Neri's fault.

Arietta's gloves creaked as she clenched her fingers around the horse's reigns. It was a bitterly cold morning, the kind she was used to in Ferelden, the kind she liked with the fresh frosts, the crisp cool air, blue skies and the late morning sunshine. It was beautiful and helped her to smile a bit as she spurred her horse into a trot.

She was trying not to dwell on Neri's morbid news. Fifteen years was still a long time, and as the elf had said, a lot could change between now and then. But it was fifteen years  _less_  than they had all thought she would have, and that stung, especially considering joining the Wardens already cut down their life expectancies so much. That damned Ritual… but if it weren't for Morrigan and her magic, Neri would have died slaying the Archdemon.

She sighed and her breath puffed out around her, dissipating on the wind. How could she not dwell on it? Her best friend was hurting, needed her, even if she was putting on a brave face for everyone else. It wasn't fair. Nothing about the Wardens was. This wasn't the first time she had questioned the sacrifices Wardens were asked to make all in the name of fighting darkspawn. It was wrong not to tell them before the Joining what to expect, what they were getting themselves into. So much was asked of them, but only after they had drank from the chalice, once they had little choice in the matter.

She wanted to change things. To make things better. She hoped Avernus would be the answer to so many problems: the death rate during the Joining, infertility… and the life expectancy, perhaps he could even find a way to cure it entirely, though she doubted that was possible, but he was just one man; already he had spent many years trying to learn more about the taint and where had it gotten him? They still had so few answers or solutions. She couldn't help but worry that he would never figure things out, that he would never be what they needed. She clenched her jaw. She would not lose hope. She  _could_  not lose hope.

The vials of blood clinked gently in the pack on her back and she took in a huge lungful of air; small steps, one day at a time, that's all they could do, all they could manage for now, until they knew more. And they would learn more, they would figure things out, she had to believe that for her sake and for Neri's.

She settled back in the saddle, enjoying the ride out alone on the road; it had been many years since she had gone riding on her own, and she missed it, in truth. She and Fergus used to race one another up and down the dirt tracks in the hills surrounding Highever, the wind in their hair, rain soaking them through to their bones, neither caring though because they were free, away from the Castle where everyone was always watching their every move. Out in the countryside they were themselves, brother and sister, best friends and wild adventurers. Everything had been so new and exciting back then, the thrill of finding a new secret place, just for them always had them grinning for days.

It had been too long since she had ridden for fun, for the simple enjoyment. She might be heading somewhere specific this day but that didn't mean she couldn't have a moment to be herself once again. To let go. To be Arietta, and not the Hero of Ferelden, the Arlessa, the Commander or the Queen. She kicked her horse into a gallop and he whinnied loudly before those strong legs of his propelled them forward, his hooves beating down on the dirt road as the wind washed over them, cutting through her cloak and making her grin like an idiot.

For a few brief moments nothing else mattered; she had no worries or fears, no doubts or regrets as the world flashed past her in a blur of colour. And then, everything came to a grinding halt around her, the world snapping back into place in front of her as her horse reared suddenly. She fell, hitting the ground hard, her arm taking the brunt of her fall onto the dirt ground; pain flared straight through her, sharper than any knife, and she screamed.

She gripped her arm, breathing raggedly through clenched teeth as she tried to focus on her surroundings. She could hear her horse galloping back down the road, away from her, and she cursed as she slowly sat back up.

 _Idiot_.

Arietta finally looked up at the four figures in front of her that had caused her horse to freak, and her blood turned to ice. Standing in front of her, obscured by dark hoods, were four darkspawn, all of which were staring down at her, grinning menacingly.

A cry escaped her lips as she shuffled back away from them and drew her dagger. "Stay back!" she hissed as she struggled back to her feet.

The darkspawn laughed, that horrible scraping, rasping cackle that they all seemed to share. She winced and swallowed thickly, gripping her dagger tightly.

"Be meaning you no harm, Commander!" the biggest of the darkspawn said as it stepped forward and pulled down its hood. "I be Dular, Head Splitter, Blood of Surana," it said enthusiastically. A skull hung from its neck, split straight down the middle so the two pieces clanked gently as it spoke. She frowned and then took a step back as she realised it was a  _human_  skull around its neck.

"You scare her with your silly trophy!" the darkspawn to its right spoke, punching the one called Dular hard in the shoulder. The creature turned to her, tilting its head slightly. "I be Tethar, Fire Bringer," it said smugly as flames flickered in its opened palm, "Blood of Surana." Arietta clenched her jaw and steadied her breathing. "We not be hurting you," it said as softly as it could, and the flames sputtered out.

"Then… what do you want?" Arietta asked as confidently as she could but her voice was shaky; she was outnumbered and injured. The one called Dular was a hurlock alpha and had a massive gleaming two handed axe strapped to its back, the one called Tethar was obviously an emissary, dressed in surprisingly well made black and grey robes with a gnarled branch for a staff, and then there was another hurlock, a warrior by the looks of it, and finally there was a genlock archer. All in all it meant that she'd have a hard time fleeing, and a fight probably wouldn't end in her favour either, not with her sprained arm.

"Greetings! I be Herak, Bone Crusher and Blood of Surana and Utha," the warrior said, stepping forward with a dip of its head. "We be here for  _you_ ," it said ominously, the darkspawn equivalent of a smirk shaping its gruesome mouth.

"Fool!" Tethar sneered at its fellow darkspawn. "You not be helping."

"This one be Shakil, Arrow Maker!" the genlock piped up eagerly, making the emissary rolls its eyes and growl in annoyance.

She stared at all four of them in disbelief. This had to be a dream; she hit her head when her horse reared, and she was imagining all of this.

"The Architect be wanting to speak with you," Dular, the alpha explained.

"The Architect?" She scowled. "He captured my Wardens. Experimented on them. Why would I wish to speak with him?"

"He be wanting no more death," Shakil explained. "Only to talk."

"And if I don't want to talk to that  _creature_?"

The darkspawn laughed loudly. "Then you can leave; the Architect be disappointed though," Herak replied.

She eyed the darkspawn sceptically. "So you won't force me to do this then?"

"We could, little one, you are injured and we outnumber you, it be easy, but we not be wanting that; we be wanting to ally," Herak said seriously.

" _Not_  easy," she grumbled.

"Ha!" Tethar roared. "This one be feisty, I be liking her already!"

"Well she not be liking  _you_ ," Dular shot back with a snort.

"Why not? I be better dressed than you, with them clattering skulls around your neck!"

"That not be helping your ugly face though!" Dular retorted with a hearty laugh.

She watched them bicker amongst themselves, still completely bewildered that they were arguing like, well…  _people_. The other talking darkspawn she had encountered were nothing like these four. They could talk but they didn't seem to have any… personality. Had Neri's blood done this? Made them something  _more?_

Her mind was made up. She needed answers. "I'll go. I'll speak with the Architect," she said quietly, as she sheathed her dagger.

The darkspawn stopped their argument mid-sentence and all turned to look at her with what she assumed was shock on their faces.

"Ha! I knew I be liking you for a reason," Tethar chortled before slapping her hard on the back, making her hiss. "Ah, be apologising! This one forgets how thin skinned your kind are."

She gave it a wary look and nodded.

"This way then, Commander. The Architect be waiting not far from here," Herak said as it led the way into the trees at the side of the road.

She took a deep breath and then followed after them as they cut their way through the gorse and bramble that littered the forest floor. She focused on her breathing – trying to keep it calm so they couldn't sense her fear – and on her surroundings, trying to commit to memory the way back to the road in case she needed to run.

"Arrow?" Shakil suddenly asked from her side, startling her.

"What?" she asked, dumbfounded, staring down at it.

"Arrow?" it said again, handing her an arrow.

She frowned.

"I be making them. This be the first. I be wanting you to have it."

"Why?" she asked suspiciously as she took the arrow from the genlock.

"It be a gesture of good faith," it explained. "And I be liking arrows a lot. They be so pretty."

She smiled awkwardly at the creature with a nod of her head and it jogged on to catch up with its brethren. She stared down at the arrow, examining it. It was well crafted, made of bone instead of wood, smooth too, and crafted with more skill than she would have thought possible for a darkspawn. It made her feel… uneasy.

The emissary turned to face her, glancing at her arm. "You be injured," it said gruffly.

She pulled it in closer to her chest self-consciously. "I'll be fine."

"Can heal it, help with pain," it said as it approached her.

She held up her good hand. "Really, it's fine. I'd prefer it if you didn't."

The darkspawn stopped, tilting its head. "You not be trusting us."

"No."

"Why?" it asked with more innocence than she ever would have thought a darkspawn capable of.

"Your kind kill people. Intentionally, and unintentionally through the Blight sickness you carry. You are a threat, always have been."

"And we still being a threat?"

"As far as I can tell, yes. Just a few days ago you were going to take Neri,  _against_  her will and, for all I know, you could be planning to do the same thing with me now."

The emissary nodded glumly. "You be seeing soon, be understanding the why; it not far now."

It turned back around and walked ahead, leaving her to walk through the overgrown path a ways behind them.

The trees were thick around her, all gnarled and old, bare of leaves, with moss such a dark green it looked almost black, like the taint was slowly devouring the old trees. She hoped it wasn't  _actually_  the taint, but she couldn't help but noticed how eerily quiet it was in this part of the forest; nothing but the sound of her and the darkspawn walking through the undergrowth could be heard, no bird song or insects, no wildlife. She didn't like it.

Of course she could just run. Run back down the road to the Keep, but she had to admit she  _was_  curious about this Architect. How could she not be? She wanted to know how it was able to talk, what it wanted, why it was at war with the Mother, and a million other questions.

Instead she decided to start with a simple question; they had known who she was, had been waiting for her with the intention of bringing her to the Architect, which must have meant one thing. "Had you been watching me?"

Shakil turned around at her words, giving her a toothy grin, which she was certain was supposed to be a light hearted sort of expression but instead made her shudder due to its horrifying face and razor sharp teeth. "We be watching you many times. Waiting. Just as the Mother watches from the shadows, not understanding."

She didn't like the sound of that. "What  _is_  the Mother?"

"It be better for the Architect to be doing the explaining," Herak interrupted. "He be better with words than these ones."

" _I_  be good with words," Tethar protested.

Dular groaned. "You not be as charming as you be thinking."

"And axes and skulls be looking so very welcoming on you," Tethar shot back, surprising her with its use of sarcasm.

Dular opened its mouth to retort but Herak growled at them both. "You both need to be quieting now; I be fed up of your bickering."

"Urghh, you always be so serious," Dular groused.

Tethar snickered. " _Do this. No do not be eating that. What you be doing now?_ "

" _That not be going there_ ," Dular added with a loud laugh.

Another rough growl rumbled out of Herak's throat. "One of us be needing to work," it sniped back. "Next time I be leaving you all to it and you can be explaining to the Architect why you all be failing."

Again Arietta found herself observing these strange creatures. She had expected Dular, the alpha to be the pack leader, but that did not seem to be the case. Herak, as the hurlock had called itself, seemed to be in charge of the others and she wondered if that was because it had blood other than Neri's, this  _Utha_. If what they believed was true, then Herak might have been intelligent for quite some time, whereas these others had surely only become intelligent in the past week or so, making them children really. But if that was the case, then they learned quickly. Very quickly, and that was troubling.

She couldn't help but notice how they all walked upright, no hunched backs like normal darkspawn, and their appearance was… jarring; never had she seen darkspawn so well dressed or equipped, usually darkspawn had odd pieces of armour and rusted old weapons, but Tethar wore black and grey robes with a red neck scarf, the little genlock had a dark blue sash around its waist, Dular obviously had its skulls and various other furs and bones decorating its armour and Herak's sword pommel was carved into the shape of a dragon. All of that made her frown; it was more evidence that they really were different from the other talking darkspawn… sentient rather than just intelligent, maybe? She really wasn't sure what to make of it all.

The trees began to thin, and then the forest opened out into a clearing around the edge of a rocky outcropping. It was a fairly large area, with lots of room should she need to fight; there was also a cave entrance in the rock, one she assumed led down into the Deep Roads. It appeared the Architect had chosen a spot they would both be comfortable with in order to talk.

And the creature itself was standing in the centre of the clearing, standing amongst the tall wispy grasses, speaking quietly with a dwarf and a Dalish elf, who Arietta assumed was Velanna's sister.

The Architect was… tall. Much taller than the emissary or the alpha escorting her, and much taller than any man or Qunari she had ever encountered. The darkspawn fanned out around her, away from her, and the Architect turned to face her, stepping forward slowly, its long robes billowing around it as it moved through the grass.

"And so we meet at last, Commander," it rasped. The dwarf and elf behind him glared at her, their hands on their weapons, but made no move to attack.

Arietta clenched her jaw and held her ground. "So we do," she said tightly, looking up at it.

"I owe you an apology, Commander. When I met your Second I had wanted to explain myself," it said slowly, carefully. "Fate, however, intervened."

"She escaped, you mean," Arietta retorted. " _After_  you experimented on her and tried to drag her into the Deep Roads."

The darkspawn dipped its head, looking tired all of a sudden. "I restrained your people, only to prevent the misunderstanding that occurred with the rest of your Order."

"The rest of my…" She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a sharp breath. " _You_  attacked my Keep," she spat. "Killed my men," she accused heatedly, anger giving her voice a deadly edge.

"I sent the Withered to ask the Grey Wardens for help," it said before taking a lispy breath. "I should have anticipated that you might view our approach as an attack. I am rarely able to judge how your kind will react. It was most unfortunate."

She bristled at that, taking a step forward. "You attacked from  _below_. Took my people. It was a fucking massacre, on  _both_  sides. Why not send a talking darkspawn over land if you were so intent to negotiate? Walk up to the gate?"

"My kind do not travel the roads as yours do. If I had sent one, alone, up to your gate, would your men have listened? Or would they have cut him down as they cut so many of my brethren down?"

"Well you could have tried instead of ambushing us!"

The emissary sighed heavily, his long fingers rubbing the side of his bulbous head. "It was not my intent to do such a thing."

She shook her head, scowling at the ground. All of those deaths… because of a  _mistake_ ; it was almost worse than it being an intentional attack. That's  _if_ this creature was speaking the truth; she had no way of knowing. Its face was not like a human's, covered as it was by the strange gold mask and mutated with the Blight; she couldn't  _read_  him.

"You wanted our help. Why?" she asked wearily.

"My kind has ever been driven to seek out the Old Gods, this is our nature. When we find one, a Blight is begun. Each time we attack your surface lands and you fight back until we are defeated; to break the cycle my brethren must be freed of their compulsion, and for that I need Grey Warden blood."

"I take it you want to stop the Blights because so many of your kind get killed because of them?"

" _Yes_. Hundreds of thousands are lost with each Blight. It is a plague upon our race," it said as his hands gestured slowly, its long fingers curling into a fist. "We do not begin a Blight because we crave power or destruction; we obey the Call of the Old Gods, without choice."

She ran a hand through her hair, sighing slightly. "And to free them of this compulsion… you need Warden blood. But Why? What is it about our blood that frees your kind?"

It looked at her a moment, pausing, a slight smile on its lips. "You take the taint into yourself to understand us; what we take from your blood is your  _resistance_. In your blood lies the key to their immunity against the Call of the Old Gods."

Her hand brushed the pommel of her dagger, a comforting habit of hers. "A Warden's resistance isn't permanent," she reasoned. "The taint catches up with us eventually, can the same be said for the darkspawn you free?" she asked, looking at the hurlocks either side of the clearing.

"You are not wrong, Commander," the Architect breathed. "But as far as I can tell, from many years of experiments, it is a permanent change in my kind."

Arietta swallowed thickly. "Can you…" She exhaled, crinkling her nose at how pitiful her voice sounded. "That resistance, can it be altered so that Wardens can also become more resistant?" she asked more firmly.

The Architect paced slightly, a hand on its hip. "It is one of the many things I wanted to learn, but time ran out and I was not able to get the answers I sought. I believe it a possibility for your kind, but it would not be a cure, merely an extension."

Arietta stared at the ground, chewing her lip. This creature could hold the key to giving Neri and indeed all Wardens more years to live. The thought made hope bloom in her chest; she squashed it down and looked back up at the emissary.

"These darkspawn seem reasonable, intelligent… sentient even," she said as she glanced at the hurlocks either side of her; she heard Tethar comment to Dular that she was looking at him when she said 'intelligent', and rolled her eyes. "But what of these others? And what  _is_  the Mother?"

The darkspawn shook its head and sighed. "My most flawed creation. Freedom drove her mad, and she poisoned the minds of others. She has influence with the ones who have not been freed, and she gathers them as an army against you and against I. Your lands will never be safe while she lives, and my work cannot continue while she interferes at every corner." It stopped pacing to look at her. "Our goals are the same, Commander."

It really did want to ally with her. "If the Mother went insane… what's stopping others from going mad as well?"

The Architect's lips turned down in disgust. "One out of a hundred. Perhaps more. You know better than most what Broodmothers are put through to become what they are." She nodded, shivering slightly. "It was a mistake to try to free her," it said and its voice was laced with regret and bitterness. "But are there not murderers and mad men amongst your kind?" it asked with a shuddering breath that saw its entire rib cage shifting grotesquely. "They are slaves, Commander, to the Call of the Old Gods," it said pleadingly. "I mean only to free them of their chains, not to rule over them."

"And then what?" She folded her arms across her chest. "I can't have sentient darkspawn running amok up here."

It took another wheezy breath and exhaled deeply. "We would go, deep underground, away from you surfacers, to continue my research. As things are now, too many of my kind die; I would not free them just to see them slaughtered in needless conflict against the people of your lands."

She nodded. "And they would go with you? Follow you?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Why?" she puzzled. "These darkspawn clearly defer to your leadership. But  _what_  are you? Are you like them, freed? If so, how? Who freed you?"

The Architect chuckled, a rasping, creaking sort of chuckle. "You ask much," it wheezed. "I was born as I am, an outsider amongst my kind. Why? I do not know. Why do some of your kind become Grey Wardens? Why do some possess magic? I have no answers. But I give them purpose, guidance."

"Maybe they don't all want that. Maybe they don't all want to be freed at all. How can you know such a thing?"

"And how would  _they_  know, when the choice has been deprived of them?" it replied hotly. "Without choice, there is only one path before them and that leads to a Blight. I believe there is another way," it said, its voice full of hope.

"A way which involves taking blood from Wardens, and from Neri," Arietta sighed. "I assume her blood is special somehow?"

"Her blood is… unique. It is unlike any other Wardens. Why, I do not know. The ritual she used to survive the slaying of the Archdemon may explain much, if I knew more of it. I had wanted to find answers, to speak with her, to explain." The Architect sighed heavily. "More mistakes. This is why I come to you now, instead of her."

Arietta frowned and paced. "And just how much blood would you require going forward? Do you plan to forcefully take it from us? How can I trust you, creature?"

"Is my taking blood from your kind so different from Wardens taking blood from darkspawn in order to become what you are? Do you not slaughter them simply to fill a single  _vial_  of blood? We both do what we must in response to the Blight," it explained, sounding fatigued. "The first blood came from Utha, freely given," it said, pointing to the mute dwarf behind it who bowed her agreement. "She was a Grey Warden, as you are, and joined us… many years ago."

"But will you  _take_  our blood?" Arietta asked again.

The emissary sighed. "If it means we cannot ally, then you have my word, Commander, that no more blood shall be taken. It is up to you to decide if you can trust the word of a darkspawn."

She made a frustrated noise and shook her head. "I don't know…."

"You need not decide now. I only wished to speak and that has been accomplished. I give you information freely, as a gesture of good faith." It stepped forward and handed her a parchment. "The location to the Mother's lair. And a piece of advice: destroy her before she can destroy you."

Arietta stared down at the map, at the detail on it. Landmarks had been drawn on as well as warnings and suggestions about the approach leading to the lair. It was… beautiful. "Did you…draw this yourself?" she found herself quietly asking.

The Architect tilted its head, a slight smile at its lips again. "I did; is that surprising to you?"

"I guess you didn't get the name the Architect for nothing," she mused. She cleared her throat and nodded. "Thank you for this. I will think on what you have said."

"That is all I ask, Commander."

"I have one other question. The blood mage, who are they?"

"An ally," the Architect said with a sigh. "I have scarce few."

Arietta clenched her jaw. "They wanted to know how Neri survived killing the Archdemon. Is there a particular reason for them wanting to know such a thing?"

"I know only that it was of a… personal interest to them," it stated carefully. "We will meet again soon, Commander," it said with a dip of its head, before turning to head for the cave in the rocks.

She watched the darkspawn all bid her farewell, Tethar trying to outdo Dular and Herak in bowing deeply to her; Shakil simply waved goodbye, grinning widely.

The Dalish elf looked over her shoulder at Arietta, her eyes grey and clouded from the taint, a sad smile on her lips. "Tell Velanna that…" she sighed. "Just tell her I have to do this."

Arietta nodded and watched the elf leave with the others before letting out a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding, and then she turned and walked back through the undergrowth toward the road, her gut twisting with worry as her mind tried to catch up with everything she had just learned.

…

By the time she reached Avernus – on foot, as she hadn't found her damned skittish horse – her arm was aching painfully, from the cold and from her injury, leaving her in a foul mood. She just wanted to get back to the Keep and plan the attack on the Mother's lair, wanted to mull things over in front of a fire, wanted to speak to Alistair, get his thoughts on all of this.

 _Alistair_.

She exhaled slowly. First she had to speak with Avernus, give him the blood samples and get her arm looked at.

She greeted Levy and his family with a smile before heading into the Castle proper and then out to the tower at the back. She found the blood mage sitting by the fire, a book in his hand and a glass of wine in the other. Those curious eyes flicked up to her as she entered, and he rose to his feet with a nod of his head.

"Commander," he said cordially.

"Avernus," she said just as politely. "I have blood samples for you from all of my Wardens," she said, stepping toward him.

"And Surana is not with you?"

"No, she is… preoccupied as of right now." Arietta pulled her pack off of her back with a wince.

"You appear to be injured, Commander," Avernus noticed as he tilted his head, inspecting her arm. "Sprained by the looks of it, if these old eyes of mine are any good still."

She sighed and passed him her pack. "I was unhorsed. Are you able to heal it?"

"I can try… I am rather out of practice, however."

She nodded and he motioned for her to sit.

"Have you made any progress with the cure?" she asked as she slowly undid her vambrace.

"Some... perhaps," he said wearily. "Your Second asked me to prioritise finding a solution to the infertility that the taint brings. There may be a way to alter the balance in the blood enough that such a thing is no longer a problem but these are still just ideas," he said as he examined her arm. "This may feel strange," he warned before his magic flared, making her grit her teeth. She watched him, frowning with the effort of his spell as magic poured into her arm and very slowly healed the sprain. It felt uncomfortable, like pins and needles pricking her arm rather than the smooth, calming magic Wynne or Anders used; she had heard rumours that blood mages made poor healers, some couldn't heal at all.

"I would prefer that you work on a cure," she said quietly. "But Neri may be right; curing infertility could help a great deal," she admitted reluctantly. "I just… I don't want her to die," she said as her voice cracked.

Avernus hummed his agreement. "I told your Second that there are ways to extend her life. She did not seem too keen to use them."

Arietta let out a disgusted snort. "Blood magic. Stealing the life force of others, making deals with demons? No, I can't imagine why she wouldn't be keen to do  _that_ ," Arietta drawled.

Avernus chuckled to himself as his magic eased off. "How many criminals do you kill a day, on average? Would it not be better to use their lives for something worthwhile?"

Her lips curled in disgust. "I can't believe you're trying to convince me that such a thing is acceptable – no – a  _good_  idea," she spat with a frown, as she pushed herself to her feet. "And I'm not even going to dignify such a suggestion with an answer. Carry on with you work and let me know if you figure anything useful out," she said briskly, as she headed for the door.

"You're welcome, by the way," he called wryly. Arietta glanced over her shoulder with a scowl. "For healing your arm," he clarified.

She sighed and nodded. "Thank you. And good day."

She pulled her hood up as she left his tower, back out into the biting cold. It was perhaps a foolish idea to walk all night in order to get back to the Keep, but she really just wanted to be back in her bed rather than staying at the old Warden fortress.

She pushed the big doors open and then stopped at the top of the stairs, a smile breaking out across her face at the sight of Neri at the bottom of the stone steps.

"I think you lost something," Neri called out, grinning up at her.

"Blasted thing bolted on me," Arietta replied as she climbed down the steps, shaking her head in exasperation. "Is he actually behaving for you?" Arietta asked incredulously as the horse nuzzled Neri's hand.

Neri gave her a shrug. "I fed him a carrot, now we're best friends, apparently." The elf turned to her, brown eyes narrowing slightly. "So, why did he bolt?"

Arietta sighed and then swallowed as she looked directly at her friend. "I met the Architect." Neri's mouth fell open and Arietta let out a weary chuckle. "Yeah. I'll tell you about it on the ride home. Let's go."


	44. Mulling Things Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late, again. Apologies. Think it will be pretty much a Friday update now. But I am behind on my writing and editing atm so there might be times where I miss a week completely over the next month or so... I hope that doesn't happen but it could. 
> 
> Thank you for your lovely comments this week darlings. Please keep them coming; they really do help to motivate me to write. And a massive thanks to ElyssaCousland for betaing <3
> 
> This update is a bit odd? I dunno. But we will be into end game soon. And then I have a few sort of 'bridge' chapters in order to fill in some gaps between this and DA2 and then part 2 of Sacrifices will get posted and you can all meet my Hawke <3 You know, assuming you stick around for part 2.

Neri gave Arietta a hand up, and the Commander settled in behind her in the saddle. Neri kicked Thunder into motion, his hooves crunching on the thick layer of snow that always seemed to cover the mountain Keep. It was as they headed under the gate and began winding their way down the long mountain road that Neri spoke.

"Alright, out with it then."

Arietta let out a loud sigh behind her and Neri nearly made a comment saying 'that bad?' but of course things really were that bad; between the Mother and the Architect things were pretty damn shit.

"They'd been watching us," Arietta began. "The Keep, me, all of us. So they knew when I left this morning."

"Shit," Neri muttered with a shake of her head.

"They ambushed me on the road, blocked my way. Thunder here bolted, and I sprained my arm in the fall."

"Shit," Neri cursed again. She had been worried sick when Thunder had come back to the Keep without Ari; she had jumped on him straight away and charged off without even telling Anders where she was going.

Arietta snorted. "You might want to try out some other curse words; I think you're going to be using them a fair bit."

"Balls?" Neri asked as she smirked at Arietta over her shoulder.

Arietta smiled and nodded before taking a deep breath. "These darkspawn… Neri they weren't like the others… they were sentient. Human-like. It was…unnerving, to say the least."

Neri frowned and gripped the reins a little tighter; she had never heard Arietta sound quite so freaked out. "Human-like?" she asked quietly.

"Yes. They had names: Dular Head Splitter, Herak Bone Crusher, Shakil Arrow Maker and Tethar Fire Bringer. They talked and walked like humans, more or less. They all had shiny, clean, well-cared for armour and weapons. And they had personalities. They bantered amongst themselves, bickering like we do. The intelligent darkspawn we've met so far seem so much simpler in comparison. They talk and act but they are not as sentient as these were.

"And Neri," Arietta said, her voice sounding grave, making Neri's stomach tighten in anticipation. "They were all made from your blood."

Neri's stomach dropped. "Well, shit," she muttered under her breath.

"Worse still, it was the Architect's darkspawn that attacked the Keep."

"What!?" Neri all but spat, spinning to look at Arietta again.

Arietta clenched her jaw, blue eyes icy. "It claims it was an accident, a misunderstanding. The Architect had wanted to ally with us."

"Bull-fucking-shit!" Neri cried. "They attacked from underground! An ambush. There's no sodding way that was a misunderstanding. I was eating a scone at the bloody time! They just surged in and attacked, never said a word either."

"I said as much. It claimed that sending a messenger over land would have resulted in the death of said messenger." She paused to sigh. "It wants our help. To stop the Blights. The Architect called them a plague on its kind. Thousands are killed every time. The darkspawn are slaves to the Old Gods' call, but the Architect can free them, using our blood."

"For fuck's sake," Neri bit out. "Well we don't have enough blood to free every blighted darkspawn. Sorry. Now fuck off!"

Arietta smiled wearily. "The Architect agreed to never take blood again. The first blood was apparently freely given by a Warden, a dwarf," Arietta explained softly.

"Right. Cause I trust him to stick to that agreement," Neri retorted sarcastically. She shook her head and focused on the road ahead. "Did it say why my blood is different? Why it makes these… human-like darkspawn?"

"No, just that your blood was unique for some unknown reason. It also wouldn't tell me who its blood mage ally was."

Neri snorted. "Wonderful."

"The Architect wants to work with us, Neri, but I haven't given it an answer, yet. Instead it gave me information: the Mother's lair. We can attack her for once."

Neri turned her head slightly. "Go on the offensive?"

"Yes. Get back to doing some proper Grey Wardening," she said with a smirk.

Neri chuckled. "That does sound like something Grey Wardens ought to do."

"I figure the others won't be happy that I let the Architect live… but at least with this, I can appease them, give them something to focus on while I mull things over. You should know… the Architect thinks it can increase our resistance to the taint. Neri, it would give us more time."

Neri looked over her shoulder at Arietta, scowling slightly. "Allying with it all for a chance to give me longer to live? Ari…"

"It wouldn't just be for you, it would be for every Warden. A way to postpone the Calling for all of us. More than that… if it really can stop the Blights, Maker, isn't it worth the risk for that chance alone?"

"I don't know… It's not exactly a small risk, is it? The Architect could have been lying."

"I know that. Hence why I will think this over, properly. But still… aren't you sick of the endless fight against evil business? If we could change that, make things better…" Arietta sighed. "Let us focus on getting back to the Keep, yes?"

Neri nodded and kicked Thunder into a trot.

…

"You're actually considering allying with that… that thing!?" Rafael spat in question. "It attacked our Keep, kidnapped our people, and experimented on them!"

"I am well aware of what it has done," Arietta replied primly, her tone clipped. "And of course I am considering it; a decision such as this requires a lot of thought rather than rash action," she said with a glare at Rafael. "Not thinking things through properly is what has caused much of this mess."

"It would not be just to kill these creatures for the transgressions of their brethren," Justice announced. "If these want to work with us, we should allow it."

"It isn't a transgression of their brethren; this is all the Architect's doing!" Rafael replied hotly, arms waving with his anger.

"Mistakes made by a creature trying to understand you. It has not had the guidance I have had in this strange world of yours. And it wants to ally; to slaughter it now would be wrong," Justice reasoned, folding his arms across his chest as he watched Rafael with a frown.

"I agree," Nathaniel said. "Do we really want to keep killing each other forever? If all it takes is Warden blood, then how is that so different to the samples we just handed to this blood mage?"

Sigrun shook her head, her lips twisting into a sneer. "This reeks of stupid! You actually want to make them smarter than they already are!? The last thing we need is more darkspawn thinking for themselves," she objected angrily. She turned to look at Arietta, eyes pleading. "The dwarves could lose everything if you do this, Commander."

"It isn't a-about wanting to make them s-smarter, but about f-freeing them from slavery," Lenny argued quietly, his hands twined together in front of him.

"Exactly," Velanna said in a rush. "This is what my sister saw, an ally amongst the darkspawn. They can't help but dig; that's all they're capable of, thanks to the Old Gods. If we can help to free them from that and in doing so stop the Blights, then how can we pass up such an opportunity?"

"Quite easily," Rafael growled. "You really trust this creature never to take our blood again? It sounds to me like it will do anything to stop the Blights. You cannot trust it."

"Agreed, trusting something we don't even understand – something that doesn't understand us – and something that has that blood mage as an ally, doesn't sound like the wisest plan to me," Max added, running a hand through his thick beard.

"And it claims they will go underground and do research," Coline scoffed. "I doubt that very much."

"The Deep Roads are crowded enough as it is," Oghren muttered. "Last thing we need is them setting up their own thaigs or something."

"And what if he's wrong? What if this doesn't stop the Blight, but makes something worse?" Anders asked worriedly.

"My thoughts exactly," Olivia replied. "We've already got an Old God Baby running around, why add to that with intelligent darkspawn?"

Anders glared at the blonde and then sighed. "These human-like darkspawn… they sound creepy, not to mention the fact that they were made from Neri's blood! Shouldn't it be up to her to make this decision?"

Olivia nearly opened her mouth to comment but Lenny shook his head at her and she backed down.

All eyes turned to Neri and she gulped. Until now she had kept quiet, listening to everyone's arguments. She had no answers. She could see everyone's point of view and she was torn. Part of her wanted the Architect dead for trying to kidnap her, for experimenting on her and because she was worried he would try to use her again, and he sure as shit didn't trust him, but the other part of her…it wondered if he really could extend her life, all of their lives. She felt like grabbing at that chance with both hands and running with it.

She shook her head. "I don't know."

"It tried to kidnap you!" Rafael yelled, clearly frustrated.

"It could try to take you again, Neri," Max said quietly.

"It could also cure her," Arietta said softly, rubbing her face. "It might be her only chance too, if Avernus can't figure it out; he seemed to have ideas but nothing solid to work with still."

"I don't trust the Architect," Neri stated slowly. "And I don't really know what to make of these… human-like darkspawn." She swallowed thickly. "Would it be nice to have a cure to the taint in our blood? Of course it would, and none here want that more than I. But the risks involved – this isn't a decision just one of us can make."

"You suggest a vote?" Rafael asked, arms folded across his chest.

"Maybe?" Neri asked, frowning.

"If you're going to do that then you need every Warden to vote. But we don't have time for that," Max pointed out.

"Perhaps it is better if we discuss something else, instead?" Varel asked, looking at them all tiredly. "We should plan the attack on the Mother's lair."

"Yes," Arietta said wearily. "We need to decide who is coming and who is staying here."

"I'm going with you," Neri said adamantly, a hand on her hip.

"Then so am I," Anders replied with a weak smile.

Arietta nodded. "Then…Velanna and Max, I want you to stay here, just in case."

"At least you have the good sense to fear a return attack," Rafael muttered, scuffing his boots on the hard stone ground in annoyance.

"I would like to go, Commander, to avenge Kristoff," Justice said proudly.

"You could use an archer," Nathaniel pointed out. "And it would help me to rebuild my family's name, if you will allow it."

"Alright," Arietta agreed, eyeing all of her Wardens with a slight smile.

"And I'm going too, then," Rafael said, looking up at her, grey eyes dark and foreboding. "Someone needs to watch all of your backs when the Architect goes to stab you," he muttered bitterly.

Arietta nodded. "Very well. The rest of you will stay here. Olivia and Varel, the Keep will be yours in our absence. But first I have some final things I want to sort out; we will leave in a week." With that, Arietta left the room, not wanting to face more arguments with Rafael.

Olivia rushed to catch up with her, her blonde hair swishing around her flushed face. "The Keep is strong, I know you fear an attack, but we will hold against it."

Arietta glanced at her, eyebrow arched. "Thank you. I hope you're right."

"I won't let it fall," Olivia assured her.

Arietta smiled. "I know you won't."

Olivia nodded. "What you're doing… taking down the Mother, it's a good first step."

Arietta let out a brief chuckle. "The next few steps being to destroy these intelligent darkspawn and the Architect, right?"

The blonde chewed her lip slightly. "I only said that they could be a threat. We don't know enough about them yet, but it is good that you are taking your time to consider this rather than making a rash decision."

"Like Neri did with Morrigan, you mean?"

Olivia tilted her head, face softening. "She showed more… reluctance than I thought she might back there. I don't agree with the decisions she's made in the past, but maybe she's starting to think things through a bit more now. I don't know. I just think we need to tread carefully with this entire thing."

"Noted. I have no intention of rushing into this lair without considering all my options first, nor do I plan to leave this Keep without being completely satisfied with its defences, but those are problems for another night. If you'll excuse me?"

Olivia nodded. "Try not to worry so much," she said with a smile as she bowed slightly.

Arietta nodded and then slipped into her office, closed the door and then collapsed down onto her sofa with a heavy sigh. Exhausted didn't quite cover how she felt. But there was still so much work to do. She gathered the strength she needed to get up from the sofa and move to her desk, but her door swung open before she had properly left the sofa. Neri strolled in carrying two mugs of… Arietta sniffed the air. Hot chocolate, two mugs of hot chocolate. Neri grinned at her.

"Sit that pretty arse of yours back down. We're having an evening together," she said as she kicked the door shut.

"An evening together?" Arietta asked as she accepted a mug from Neri, who then settled on the sofa next to her and blew on the steamy chocolately milk.

"Yes, an evening. You're knackered, so any work you do will be shit. So instead, we're gonna chill."

"Neri… I haven't 'chilled' for a very long time. I'm not sure I even know how to."

"Right! Well, that's why we're having it. We gotta fix that."

Arietta rolled her eyes and sipped from the mug; she sighed contentedly as the frothy liquid slid down her throat, warming her entire body.

"That's a good start," Neri said with a chuckle.

Arietta gave the elf a half-smile. "Wouldn't you rather be with Anders this evening?"

Neri snorted. "I've barely left his side since… well, you know. I fully intend to spend all night with him, but right now, my best friend needs me more."

Arietta could feel tears spring to the corners of her eyes and she took another swig of her drink. "So, what does one do during 'an evening'?" Arietta asked with amusement.

Neri grinned, that cheerful, bubbly grin she was famous for. "We drink these delicious drinks, and then we upgrade them to something a bit…stronger, and then we see where the night takes us."

"You want me to get drunk? The Queen of Ferelden, Arlessa of Amaranthine, Commander of the Grey?"

Neri laughed, hard. "That didn't seem to be a problem for you on your wedding night, Your Majesty."

Arietta's cheeks were burning as she cleared her throat, smiling impishly.

Neri snickered. "You never did tell me how your night was."

"A shame that."

Neri scoffed into her drink.

"What about you? You said Zev will be coming here soon, right? What are you going to do?"

"Well, I mean, I'm gonna snog his face off as soon as I see him. But then I'll have to introduce him to Anders… Honestly, I think Zev will be fine with it, mostly. It's Anders I'm worried about. He's got quite the jealous streak. I mean, right now, he's gone off with Max to see who can throw the biggest fireball," she said with a roll of her eyes. "It's all so they can let off some steam. I hope you don't mind, but I pretty much told everyone they had the night off."

Arietta smiled. "I don't mind at all. It's late. We can get to work in the morning."

"That was my thinking too."

Arietta relaxed back into the sofa, kicked her boots off and then brought her feet up. "You'll have both of the men you love here with you," she said quietly as she stared into the fireplace, watching the flames dance.

"I'll happily share; my door is always open," Neri quipped, making Arietta smile.

"Do you remember that time Alistair and I pretended to want that?"

Neri grinned and nodded her head. "Alistair turned white as a sheet when I sat in his lap and went in for a kiss. It was bloody hilarious."

Arietta chuckled. "I miss him so much." She sighed. "Remind me again, why did we make him king?"

"Because you two are the best damned rulers this country's had in a long time. Better than Anora on her own, better than Cailan and Anora. I can't comment on Maric, from the legends he seems like a cool guy, but you're good for Ferelden. You enjoy being queen, don't you?"

"I do, yes. It's the needing to do three different jobs while he rules alone that I'm struggling with."

"Mm. Do you still want me to take over after all of this is dealt with?"

Arietta turned to look at her, those blue eyes of her so uncertain and sad; it made Neri's heart twist uncomfortably to see. "I would never force something like that on you. Olivia, or even Nathaniel, with a little more training, could make good Commanders in my absence."

Neri nodded thoughtfully. "I think I'm done. All the stuff we've seen… It eats away at you. It's easy to laugh it off during the day or distract yourself with stuff or people. But at night, it's not always darkspawn nightmares that startle me awake. Maybe I'll always suffer from bad dreams, but the shit we've seen and been through in the Wardens doesn't make any of it easier; it dredges past memories up, makes them raw and sore again."

Arietta nodded thoughtfully, warming herself as she cupped her mug with both hands. "You hide it well. Better than me, at least."

"Practice makes perfect," Neri replied derisively.

"At least you have the option to leave, to get away. I have to go from this to ruling the country once it's over."

"You don't have to. Alistair and you could take a break together. Go to that cottage you honeymooned at or something, so you aren't too far in case you're needed."

"I suppose. That would be nice. It was beautiful there. We had our own beach, this little cove with these gorgeous rock formations. There was no noise, no people, just us, the sea, and the gulls soaring overhead," she said wistfully. "We sat on a blanket one of the mornings and watched the sun rise together; I was leaning against his chest, his arms wrapped around me, and it was just…perfect.

"We walked along the beach in the evening as the sun set behind us, our hands entwined, talking about everything and nothing. And when he kissed me it felt like nothing else mattered, that there was only us, that I was all he needed, all he would ever want." A tear fell down Arietta's cheek and she smiled sadly up at Neri. "You're lucky to have found love twice. It's the most wonderful feeling in the world and you have twice as much of it."

A grin spread across Neri's face. "Yeah but you're forgetting, I have twice the heartache too when they're not around. Zev's gone right now, Anders wasn't there during the Blight… and now that I might actually have both of them with me, there's bound to be drama and arguments and fights. I can hardly wait," she drawled with a smirk.

"At least you can have angry make up sex or competitive threesomes," Arietta teased lightly.

"You jest, but it's true. There's gonna be a lot of that, I can just imagine it now. Both of them trying to pleasure me… Oh Maker, or me trying to please them both…or them both taking me at once…" She moaned softly at the images flooding her mind and Arietta laughed beside her.

"That means you'll have to do anal, you know."

Neri burst out laughing. "It's so weird to hear you talk about sex. You know that, right?"

"Because I'm the Queen?" Arietta asked, clearly affronted, one brow arched.

"Shit no. Cause you're you. You blush just thinking about kissing. Yet here you are talking about anal sex." She snickered into her drink.

"I'm not a total prude, you know!"

"Right, and I'm a virgin."

Arietta rolled her eyes.

"You're not wrong though. If I want them at the same time I'll need to be sandwiched in between them, both of them pounding into me, filling, stretching, taking me." Arietta was blushing full force now and Neri giggled. "I may have imagined it once or twice."

Arietta laughed, free and happy; she looked radiant with her long chestnut locks, her milky white skin and rosy cheeks. "I love it when you laugh," Neri commented before looking away and cringing at how lame that sounded.

"Do you?"

Neri turned back to her to look into those impossibly blue eyes of hers. "Of course. It's so rare these days."

Arietta smiled sadly. "I don't mean to be such a bore, or a grump. My parents…they always taught me to put one hundred percent into everything I do. Work tends to take priority over having fun, I'm afraid."

"We're quite the pair, aren't we? I hide behind laughter and smiles while I scream and cry on the inside, and you put on a brave face while you slowly drown under your work load and the pressure put on your shoulders by yourself and by others." Neri ran a hand through her hair, ruffling the messy golden strands. "I haven't helped much either, refusing to get involved with the nobles and all that shit. I would help, if I thought that'd I'd actually be helping."

"It's fine, Neri. I've had Varel and Olivia is stepping in to help a lot too. And Maker willing, this will all be over soon and I can return to Denerim, at least for a while."

Neri nodded and set her mug down on the floor having finished her drink. "Right. I'm getting the alcohol." She hopped to her feet, opened the door and headed down the corridor.

"Maker save me," Neri heard Arietta mutter.

"Elf hearing!" Neri called back to her; Arietta cursed in reply and Neri laughed.

…

Nathaniel was watching the two mages as they once again tried to outdo one another, the brightly coloured magic lighting up his face before casting it back in shadow once again. Coline found herself tracing the outline of his face with her eyes, running over that strong jawline of his, her gaze lingering on his lips, before she frowned and scolded herself for such ridiculous behaviour. He was a Warden, a colleague, nothing more. She folded her arms across her chest and forced her eyes to focus on the mages once again.

Nathaniel nearly laughed as he watched the two mages; they looked preposterous. Especially Anders as he nearly fell into the dirt during an attempt at a fancy twirl. He turned his attention to the archer at his side. Coline was standing with her arms folded across her chest, her lips slightly pursed as she watched the casting duo.

It was rare for them to talk; Coline always seemed to keep to herself, not that Nathaniel minded, he too kept to himself a fair bit. Most of his time was spent with Arietta, in truth. He had a feeling she was grooming him for command, him or Olivia. It was odd to think that the Commander trusted him that much already, but she seemed to be good at reading people, at knowing when they could be trusted and relied upon and when they couldn't. He liked to think he had proven himself to her; he liked to think he was helping. He hoped he was. It was up to him to improve his family name now; Delilah would be too busy with the baby soon to care about such things. Going with the Commander to deal with this Mother was another good step, still, he hadn't considered the woman at his side's opinion on it all, and for that he felt slightly guilty.

"I hope you were not offended by my asking to accompany the Commander," he quietly said.

He startled her and that made her blush further; she straightened her back, hoping to look unfazed. "Hardly," she scoffed. "Did you see the map of her lair? It's in some vile waste. I am quite content to stay here." And she was. Very much so.

A smile touched his lips, a smile that did not make her stomach flutter. "There could be trouble here too; the darkspawn could attack," he said, watching her with curious grey eyes.

Her hands clenched tight where she had them folded across her chest as she tried to keep a cool and calm demeanour. "Then it's a good thing the best archer will be here to put them down."

He stared at her a moment, an eyebrow arched; she was not usually this brazen in his company. "The best archer, hm?"

"Evidently," she replied coolly, although he could have sworn there was a brief smirk at her lips.

"I disagree. There is no evidence," he replied, eyes narrowing as he watched her.

He's just another Warden. A colleague, she reminded herself. She smirked at him. "There will be in a moment when I kick your arse, Howe."

"That wouldn't be very lady like, my lady."

She snorted. "Shut up and shoot," she said as she grabbed her bow, nocked and arrow and loosed it at the target board across the yard from them.

Nathaniel smirked, turned and carefully picked up his own bow and then lined up his shot, taking a deep breath. He loosed and his arrow; it cut straight through Coline's, splitting it in half. He glanced at her and then quirked his eyebrow in challenge.

She shook her head, grinning before lifting her bow once more. "Move out the way," she barked. He did so and she loosed arrow after arrow as she side stepped across the ground in front of him, each of her arrows hitting their mark.

She looked at him smugly and he smiled. "You might want to stand clear, my lady."

He closed his eyes and did as she had done; when he opened his eyes, his arrows had split hers once again.

"Humph," she said with a frown.

"Giving up?" he asked her, unable to hide the smugness in his voice.

"I never give up," she growled, pushing her vibrant violet locks away from her face with a huff.

"Then we may be here for a while."

"I'll keep going all night if I have to, unless you're not up for the challenge?"

He cleared his throat and then flexed his hands and smiled. "Ladies first."

…

"Come on," Max urged. "We're heading inside, going to grab some drinks. Join us."

Rafael watched Anders' back as the mage disappeared in through the doors, and then glanced back at Max. "You two seem to be getting along famously; I think I'll leave you to it."

"Oh no you don't!" Max cried, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the doors. "You could use a drink; you're brooding. This is our last night off for Maker knows how long; I will not have you waste it by frowning the night away!"

"I am not frowning the night away, Max," Rafael grumbled.

"Oh yes you are. You're doing it right now. Your brows are so low that the scar through your eyebrow almost touches the other half of it on your cheek!"

"You exaggerate."

"I do not! I'll get a mirror and show you, don't think I won't," he scolded softly, a smirking playing about his lips.

"You are being ridiculous. I just want to go to bed, okay?"

"No."

"Max…"

"No. You still need to try my special brew, I haven't forgotten about it." They came to a halt at the doors, Max's blue eyes fixed on him, light and far too cheery. "You were still drinking elfroot potions yesterday for your leg and that would have interfered with the drink…but now you can actually try it!"

Rafael groaned. "Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"Most definitely not; it has to be right now."

Rafael sighed in defeat making the mage grin like an idiot, white teeth flashing gleefully. Max grabbed his hand again and yanked him in through the doors, pace fast as he dragged him to the dining hall. Anders turned to look at them, hearing their approach, and gave them a smirk, before he pushed the doors to the hall open, revealing Oghren, Sigrun, Lenny and Olivia all drinking around the table.

"So, the Warden says 'I didn't know it could do that!'" Oghren said loudly, grinning widely, and the whole table erupted into laughter.

"But she seems to know a lot about… that kinda thing! How did she not know that?" Sigrun asked, still smirking.

"Heh, guess those poncy skirt-wearers don't know everything," Oghren snickered.

"Hey, what was that even about?" Anders asked, narrowing his eyes at the dwarf.

"Huh? Oh, eh, nothing," Oghren said as he looked down into his drink, trying to muffle his laughter.

"Right!" Max clapped his hands. "Who wants some of my special brew?"

Olivia and Lenny both paled. "Max, the last time I had that…" Olivia groaned. "Please don't subject me to that again."

Maxime grinned. "You're just embarrassed because you ended up on the roof in nothing but your smalls!"

"Quiet!" she hissed, her cheeks turning bright red. "They don't need to hear the story."

"Too late now!" Anders laughed.

Olivia glanced at Lenny, pleadingly but he smiled, shaking his head slightly. "It w-was amusing."

"For you!"

Lenny smiled shyly. "I didn't think y-you'd actually climb onto the r-roof when I told you there was a k-kitten stuck up there, love."

"Oh! A daring rescue attempt?" Anders asked, grabbing an ale for himself before settling in at the table.

"How did you end up in just your smalls?" Sigrun asked, smiling crookedly as she leaned over the table to look down it at the blushing Olivia.

"I was very drunk, or high, thanks to Max's drink," Olivia sighed.

Maxime snickered. "I may have also told her that the kitten would only come to her if she took off all of her scary armour."

"And did it work?" Anders asked, laughing.

Olivia scowled. "No," she said as she folded her arms.

"Turns out," Max said, laughing hard, "that the 'kitten' Lenny had seen was actually a skunk…"

The whole table burst out laughing.

"It isn't funny!" Olivia cried, laughing now too. "I stank for a month!"

"More like two," Rafael wryly added, a smirk at his lips now too.

Olivia snorted. "But no, to answer your question, Max. I do not want to drink your special bloody brew!"

Maxime laughed loudly. "Your loss!" he called, as he headed to the kitchen to create his awful drink.

…

"No, do not down it, Raf, trust me, you will regret it," Olivia warned with a smile. "It hits you way faster that way."

"It does taste a-awful though," Lenny pointed out. "You're more likely to r-retch if you sip it. Holding your nose and d-downing it might be s-safest."

Rafael narrowed his eyes at them both. "I don't know which of you to trust with this."

"Definitely down it," Max said with a smirk.

Rafael stared down at the swirling green liquid with a crinkle of his nose and sighed. "Fuck it." He put the drink to his lips and threw his head back; in a few short pulls the flagon was empty. Rafael slammed it down onto the table and then belched loudly, groaning slightly. "That was foul."

Maxime grinned. "Just wait."

Rafael arched a brow and waited, but nothing happened.

Max started to frown. "It's supposed to give you a buzz like nothing else!"

"Well, maybe you made it wrong?" Rafael asked. "I feel nothing but a bit of warmness in my stomach."

Max pouted.

"Wait!" Rafael said, a hand on his chest. They all leaned forward, waiting. The silence dragged on and then… Rafael hiccupped. And everyone burst out laughing once more. "Bloody hell, Max. You know how hard it is for me to get rid of hiccups!" he whined with a wry smile.

"Well soooorrry! But it's your own fault for having a stupid body that is immune to my fabulous beverage!"

Rafael grinned at him then shook violently as he hiccupped again.

"Heh, this is why you should let the expert make the drinks," Oghren boasted.

"Hold your breath," Sigrun suggested.

Rafael shook his head. "Trust me, we've tried everything. Nothing ever wo-HEUUGH-ks," he replied with a grimace.

"I know something we can try!" Anders replied with a rather wicked looking grin.

…

"Shhhhh," Neri slurred out as Arietta started to giggle again. "You 'as to be quiet, Queeny."

"'Mm always quiet," Arietta retorted drunkenly as she swayed slightly behind Neri.

Neri crouched down at the doors to the main hall, opening it just a crack so she could see inside. She gasped slightly as she spotted Max and Anders both standing on the table, holding Rafael upside down by his legs while Olivia poured water into Rafael's mouth.

"You're gonna drown him!" Maxime cried, laughing slightly.

Rafael snorted and glared up at him. "And you find that amu-UUUEKK-sing?" he asked, shuddering with his hiccup.

"I can think of worse ways to go," Anders admitted with a grin.

Rafael rolled his eyes and took more of the drink.

"What are they doing?" Arietta whispered loudly in Neri's ear, making her flinch.

"Looks like Riff-raff has hiccups. We did that'ta people in the Tower."

"Ohhh." Arietta started to giggle. "He looks funny upside down."

"So would you," Neri retorted with a chuckle. "Now shut it so I can conertrate."

"That's notta word," Arietta mused childishly.

"You know what I meant," Neri shot back. "Now shhh."

"What you gonna do?"

"This," Neri said as she very slowly started moving the flagons sitting on the table, specifically the one near Oghren. First she moved it just enough so that the dwarf, when he went to grab his flagon again, missed the handle by a few inches, making the dwarf frown. He tried to grab it again and she moved it once more making Oghren pinch the bridge of his nose with a groan. He finally grabbed it and lifted it to his lips, just then Neri knocked it upwards so that it went up his nose; Oghren spluttered loudly, spilling the frothy drink down himself.

"What! What did that?" he growled, looking around suspiciously.

"Maker, Oghren, can't you keep the drink in your mouth?" Sigrun sniped.

"That wasn't me, woman!" he grumbled. "It moved!"

"Oghren, you're drunk," Sigrun pointed out, making the other dwarf curse as he carefully put the flagon back down and refilled it.

"You are sooo mean to him," Arietta scolded, although Neri could feel the smirk on her face as the human leaned over her, her head resting on top of Neri's.

"He gets me back just as much," Neri argued. "I never should'a told him half the things I did," she laughed. "Time to up my game."

Neri suddenly lifted every single bottle or flagon up into the air and Oghren about shat his pants as he screamed and fell out of his seat. Sigrun, Lenny and Olivia all scrambled back from the table too, looking scared shitless, and Anders and Max were both so surprised that they dropped Rafael, making the hiccupping rogue cry out as he hit his head on the stone ground.

Neri and Arietta burst out laughing.

Anders stared at the floating cups with a smirk; he had seen this trick before, and knew who was responsible for scaring everyone half to death. He could even hear her laughing from behind the corridor. He sent a blast of magic at the oak doors and they flew open, knocking Neri and Arietta back onto their asses. The flagons all fell to the ground with a clang, and the two girls started giggling uncontrollably in a heap on the ground.

"No fair!" Neri laughed out. "Anders, you spoil sport!"

He grinned. "I know all your tricks, remember?"

Neri staggered to her feet, then nearly fell back down as she tried to help a very inebriated Arietta to her feet too. Both girls finally stumbled into the main hall, still laughing.

"You'll pay for that one, Warden," Oghren grumbled as he rubbed his sore ass, but Neri simply stuck her tongue out at him.

"Hey! My hiccups are gone!" Rafael cried from the ground where he was rubbing his head with Max tending to him, making them all laugh.

Arietta picked up an unopened, intact bottle of wine and lifted it into the air. "To being drunk enough to not give a damn about anything!" she called out, and everyone cheered as Arietta uncorked it and took a long pull.


	45. The Day Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for disappearing. Here now. As an apology, you all get an extra chapter (entirely made up of smut) which I shall post Sunday (hopefully). As always, thanks to Lys for the beta work! <3 
> 
> And this one's for Rivka. Love you babe.

Lenny sighed heavily as he threw the ball into the wall yet again, waiting for it to bounce back to him before catching it and throwing it once more. It was one of the few things he had left from his childhood: a leathery red ball with messy black stitching that might have been a gift from his parents, if he could remember much of them.

It had been a week now since the Commander had met and spoken with the Architect, a week of planning and preparations, a week of hard work, finally drawing to a close, for tomorrow they would attack the Mother's lair.

Lenny and Olivia had been tasked with receiving a shipment due in at the docks today, but it was late and they had been left in one of the outbuildings along the docks to wait where it wasn't  _quite_  as cold as the weather outside. All week it had been cold and the work hard; with so much to do, they had barely had a minute to catch their breath. He wasn't actually sure what to do with the spare time they had been given now, hence the ball throwing.

"Len, please," Olivia spoke softly, as she rubbed her temples.

"Sorry, love." He caught the ball and placed it down on the rough wooden floorboards next to his leg. "Headache? he asked, as he tilted his head slightly, watching the weariness on her face.

"I'll be okay, it's just the cold," she said with a reassuring smile, as she pulled her cloak closer to her face, wrapping herself up in it.

"You think we'll be w-waiting here much longer?"

"I hope not," she replied, shivering a little. "I'm not even sure why the Commander couldn't have sent others to pick up this shipment instead of us."

"She trusts us. And the Qunari don't w-want this poison falling into the wrong hands," Lenny answered as he leaned his head back against the wall.

"I suppose. And it  _is_  good to be away from all of the crazy elves. Neri and Velanna are just…" She sighed. "All week I've had to listen to Neri screaming at the soldiers as she flings spells at them, while I was trying to make sure the gates and walls are ready for a potential attack, and if I so much as  _look_  at Velanna she gets suspicious and starts questioning me."

Lenny chuckled. "Velanna is… not so bad once you get past the h-hostile exterior. She can be s-surprisingly sweet. As for Neri… well, she was t-tasked to do that by the Commander, and she isn't the  _craziest_  elf I've ever m-met."

Olivia arched a brow at him. "I find that hard to believe, but do tell."

"There was an elf in the Alienage I grew up in," he started, rubbing his hands on his legs to warm them up. "Her name was Aena." He looked up at his wife with a sad smile. "She was one of the f-few elves that didn't bully me. She, too, was quiet and kept to herself. She apparently h-had a Dalish parent, but they had abandoned her and so she had ended up in the city with her other parent. She was always a little s-strange; she believed so strongly in the Elven Gods, always muttering about them, telling others in the Alienage that they spoke to her, that s-she was immortal. Nobody believed her, and they all thought her m-mad. Perhaps she was." He stared down at his lap, chewing his lip slightly.

"One day, she c-climbed the Vhenadahl, right to the highest branches, and then just... jumped. I w-will never forget the look on her face. She was smiling. Almost smugly, so certain that she would li-live. She didn't make a single sound on her way down. I… I can still hear the sound of her body shattering as she hit the g-ground." He shuddered.

Olivia sat forward in her chair, her face crumpling with grief. "I'm so sorry, that's horrible."

"It was." He sighed. "She n-needed help; instead they b-bullied her and told her to leave. It's why I left for the Chantry, actually. I remember thinking t-that the Creators were c-cruel; I had hoped that the Maker would prove to b-be more forgiving. I was wrong, and that is how I ended up a Warden."

"I never knew that," Olivia replied softly.

He nodded thoughtfully. "Despite Aena's a-apparent craziness, she was the sweetest elf in the Alienage. She u-used to bring me flowers when I was sad. Which was often," he admitted with a weak smile. "Looking back o-on it, I think she might have been a mage, and that there were d-demons whispering to her. I guess we'll never know now though.

"My point is, love," he looked Olivia in the eye, holding her gaze, because he could with her, "that even though you think Neri is dangerous and crazy, she is still a g-good person underneath. You should give her a chance."

"I… don't know if I can."

"Try, ma vhenan."

"You know my past, Len. I want to believe you, I want to see what you can see, but every time I see her, I see her smiling over that ogre corpse. I see her standing stone-faced as you lay dying at her feet…"

"Do you know what I s-see when I look at her?"

Olivia shook her head.

"She smiles, she laughs louder than most h-here, but it's to hide the hurt. She has been through so much, ma vhenan. She g-grew up a sheltered Circle mage who suffered h-horrible abuse, got thrown into the Wardens during a-a  _Blight_. She did what she thought was best in a t-terrible situation. I'm not saying she hasn't made m-mistakes, but her motives were not wrong. She  _is_  good."

"I know what she's been through… And I know I've overreacted at times, I just-"

"Try? She is our sister, like it or n-not. You may have to count on her someday s-soon, or her you."

"I'll try," she said quietly as she hugged herself close again.

He got to his feet and came to stand between her legs. He cupped her face and she leaned into him, those dark brown eyes of hers staring up at him, full of warmth and adoration. He tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, smiling softly down at her. "Ma'arlath," he whispered.

"I love you too, Len," she said, with a smile just turning the corners of her lips. He leaned down and captured her lips in a gentle kiss, missing the way she tasted of honey and smelled of lavender. All week they had been too busy to spend any time together, and suddenly he welcomed the boring wait for the cargo to arrive.

**…**

Sigrun repeated the motion of running her whet stone along the curve of her axe, removing the dents along her prized weapon. She had spent much of the day cleaning and making sure all of the weapons in the armoury were ready. The Commander feared an attack on the Keep, and with good reason; these intelligent darkspawn were unlikely to sit idly by while the Wardens killed them all.

Maintaining weapons like this reminded her of her days in the Legion. Down there you only really had the one good weapon; anything happened to it and you had to use whatever the darkspawn had on them, often rusted old swords, half broken and brittle with age. She'd had this little axe ever since she left for the Legion, and it had served her well.

Oghren was opposite her, testing out all of the armoury's battle-axes. He kept swinging them around, clearly a display meant to impress her. And maybe it did a little bit; he  _was_  strong. But she didn't have to tell  _him_  that. He still stank like stale vomit, after all.

She dragged the stone back up her blade before checking it in the candle light, a smile lighting her face when she saw that it was perfect, pristine even.

"Heh. You're pretty good at that," Oghren said, his voice deep and gruff, a clear attempt to flirt, yet again.

"You're going to turn it into another innuendo, aren't you?"

"You could whet my sword any day, woman," he said before snickering.

She sighed. "Fine, Oghren. You win. Take me. Take me now."

He stared at her, slack-jawed. "Er…"

"Why the hesitation? I want a big helping of that secret recipe of Oghren's. Served hot."

"Uhh…"

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "What? I grew up in the slums of Dust Town. You think I haven't had my fair share of dusters?"

His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words formed on his lips.

She grinned. "I knew it. You're all talk, Oghren. Deep down, you're scared of women."

He huffed and glared at her, but still couldn't form a reply.

"It's a pity, I was just starting to warm up to you, too," she said nonchalantly as she very meaningfully whetted her axe for him.

He stared at her, eyes wide, and she could barely hold back her grin.

"Agh! Woman, what do you want from me?" he grumbled, as he turned away from her to look back through the battle-axes.

She stopped whetting her axe and sat back on her stool. "A serious talk, for once."

He turned to her, a grin on his face. "Oghren's gonna get serious all over-"

"Oghren!" she snapped, a frown on her face. "Why are you constantly so obscene? Do you really like me, or are you just obnoxious?"

He groaned, rubbing the side of his face. "What's with women's preoccupations with talking about feelings? Yeah, I like you! I thought it'd be obvious."

Sigrun blinked twice and then cleared her throat. "Well, good." She frowned slightly. "But what about Felsi… don't you have a kid with her?"

Oghren groaned. "Damned woman. Yeah, I got a kid with her." He sighed. "But I'm a Warden now, ain't no point tryna stoke that dying fire."

"A kid is hardly a dying fire…"

"So I'll write some letters or something. Bah. Are you done yapping?"

She snorted. "Well, maybe we can talk more later then."

"Later after we… you know?" He waggled his eyebrows at her and she sighed heavily. "What?" he asked. "Could be we all die tomorrow, saucy lady. How would you rather spend your last night of living?"

"I'm part of the Legion, Oghren, I'm already dead."

"Heh. You really know how to get a guy all hot and bothered."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Maybe, I'll consider it, if you leave your door unlocked tonight and  _bathe_  first. No promises though."

He grinned broadly. "Knew you'd come around eventually."

"Don't get cocky. You can save  _that_  for tonight."

**…**

"Not a soul or darkspawn in sight," Maxime sighed as he leant lazily against a tree.

Rafael looked up at him, quirking a wicked half-smile. "Are you just speaking out loud for fun, or did you have a point, Max?"

Maxime gave him a slow smile. "Well, there's a spring not far from here… we could, you know?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Rafael snorted and shook his head. "The Commander gave us a job to do; it's not like you to disobey an order," he sardonically chided.

Maxime feigned offence. "You wound me. I'm not  _disobeying_  orders, just not devoting my  _full_  attention to them," he hedged playfully.

"And if we get into that spring together, can you honestly say you'll be devoting  _any_  attention to keeping an eye out for trouble?" Rafael retorted with curved lips.

"Maybe like a  _tiny_  bit," Maxime said on a laugh.

Rafael kissed the mage passionately, his hands kneading at his hair, eliciting a groan from the red-head. He pulled back slowly and chuckled as Maxime stayed with his head back against the tree, his eyes closed in blissful surrender. "I think we both know that's a lie," he murmured into the mage's neck, planting delicate kisses on his skin.

Maxime nodded his head. "It's been too long," he complained.

Rafael inhaled sharply and looked up at the mage. "I know, but we've both been so tired."

Max smiled lopsidedly. "Tired doesn't quite cover it; shattered, bone-weary, exhausted, on the verge of collapse, would be more accurate," he groused.

"I may not agree with her letting the Architect live… especially after it was responsible for so many deaths and your kidnap," Rafael said with a frown. "But attacking this Mother's lair is the best news we've had in ages. We need to kill her and fast."

"I agree; they all need to be dealt with. It may seem cruel but the darkspawn… they're always going to need us, our blood in order to become intelligent, right? How can we even consider letting creatures like that live?"

Rafael ruffled his hair, exhaling slowly. "The Commander listened to our arguments, Max; I pray she heard our concerns. If she didn't… well, at least I'll be there if the creature makes another appearance."

Maxime frowned. "You plan to kill it with or without her consent?"

"I… don't know."

Max cupped his cheek. "She could hang you for that insubordination. Please, don't do anything rash, mon amore."

Rafael leaned into the touch, feeling weary. "If the Architect is there, Max..."

"Promise me," the mage urged.

Rafael sighed heavily. "Fine. But if he goes to attack us then I am stabbing that fucker right in the face."

Max smiled. "Make that twice in the face, for good measure; you didn't see Keenan… or the state Neri was in."

"I know." Rafael leaned in close again. "The Architect threatens us all, Max. I won't let him hurt you."

"Nor I you."

They kissed again, soft and sweet, and then Rafael moved closer, his thigh pressing between Max's long legs. Their kiss deepened, hands sliding into hair and around hips, dragging them closer together.

Rafael pulled back, breathless, a smirk playing on his lips. "How far away did you say that spring was?"

**…**

Neri didn't enjoy the whole 'planning for war' thing, but she did like helping others to prepare for it, so Arietta had made her train the solders most days; that pretty much just involved hurling insults or spells at them. Such hard work required regular breaks, of course, hence why she had stolen a moment away with Anders. They were sitting under her favourite tree in the gardens as Pounce and Barkspawn played together in the grass. Anders' head rested in her lap, a lazy smile on his face as she stroked his hair.

"Bet you never expected the Wardens to be such hard work," she mused, as she picked up another grape from the bowl and fed it to him.

"Yes,  _such_  hard work," he retorted, opening his mouth for the next grape. She snickered. "My mouth is parched, you know," he complained.

"Let me fix that, immediately," she murmured as she leaned down and took his lips in a kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth to taste the lingering sweetness of the grapes. She moaned, and his head lolled back further so she could deepen the contact.

"Why do that?" Justice asked, startling them both. Neri sat back up, looking at the spirit with a tilted head.

"Kissing, you mean?" she inquired, eyebrow arched.

"Yes. What purpose does it serve?"

"It's…" Neri frowned. "Does it need to have a purpose?"

"I do not know. Perhaps? There must be a reason for it."

"It's to show affection," Neri explained.

"It's nice; you should try it sometime," Anders said with a smirk, crossing one leg over the other. "Although, you might struggle to find anyone willing to kiss that face of yours."

"Does my face repulse you?" Justice questioned. "I have noticed many give me strange looks, and Rafael still seems disgusted by my very existence."

"Who would have thought walking around in a man's body would gross people out," Anders snarked.

"It was not my choice..." Justice began with a weary sigh.

Neri gave the spirit a sad smile, her fingers threading back through Anders' hair. "I think Raf's mostly disgusted because Kristoff was his friend… your appearance probably doesn't help much though," she said up to the warrior.

Justice shifted, pacing slightly, armour clinking with each stride. "Nathaniel mentioned changing bodies should this one get too decomposed. I do not know how I feel about that."

"Well, we kill a lot of stuff; it wouldn't be too hard finding you a new corpse," Neri pointed out, popping a grape into her own mouth.

"Nathaniel said as much, but they are not just bodies; they were people once. I see their memories, their feelings and thoughts. It feels wrong to take another, willingly; ending up in this body was mere accident."

Neri leaned back against the tree, stroking Barkspawn as he came to nuzzle against her. "Well, you might need to if you're planning on sticking around; you won't be much good to the Order as a puddle on the ground."

Justice sighed. "True enough."

"Hey, can you possess animals?" Anders asked, as Pounce came to snuggle up on his stomach.

"I believe I could, yes."

Anders pulled the cat in to his chest as the spirit eyed Pounce curiously. "Well don't try!"

"I would never force my will upon the living; such a thing is for demons," Justice said resolutely, but then a frown settled over his face. "But I would like to stay and help. This world is… " His frown deepened. "I have grown accustomed to it."

Neri tilted her head, watching the corpse as he twitched a little. "You don't miss the Fade?"

"I am less certain every day," Justice admitted, staring down at the ground. "Is it wrong of me to  _want_  to remain here? Only demons want for things."

"Oh yes, how demonic, wanting to  _help._ How could you?" Anders said with a chuckle.

Justice scowled. "And if it is more than that? If I want to remain for… other reasons?"

Neri and Anders shared a look. "And what reasons are those?" Neri asked.

"I have experienced things in this world, seen things. I know now that there is no objectivity here. I want there to be, that is what justice should be, but your world is subjective, always changing. I find myself confused, uncertain at times but wanting to learn more. And I am drawn to things in this world, like the song this ring makes." He turned the ring on his finger, staring intently at it. "I always believed spirits and demons were so very different, but what if we are merely two sides of the same coin?"

"You think 'cause you like this world and because you're less rigid about morality now, that you are slipping toward becoming a demon?" Neri concluded.

He shifted uncomfortably. "I fear it, yes."

She snorted. "Well, do you want to possess me or Anders here?"

Justice looked mortified. "Of course not!"

"Then, does it matter if you've changed?"

"Spirits are eternal; they should not change," Justice objected.

"But you have; you've been humanised. That doesn't make you a demon, Justice."

"You certainly don't seem like any demons I've ever met," Anders added. "Most are better looking than you, for one."

"I…"

Neri massaged Anders' head, kneading his scalp and he moaned softly. "If anything you can be  _more_  just now that you've experienced the Fade and this world. Don't you think?" she asked the spirit.

Justice sighed. "Perhaps you are right."

"Of course I am." Neri grinned. "Now, I wanted to ask you about your-"

"Desist!" Justice snapped, lifting a hand. "You are as bad as the dwarf with your questioning."

"Oh come  _on_ , I just want to know if you can-"

"I am leaving," Justice announced before walking away.

"Cutting me off like that wasn't very  _just_!" Neri called out.

"Much in your world is not just," Justice retorted.

Anders laughed in her lap and she grinned down at him. "Bit rude, really."

"So was the part where he interrupted us, love."

Neri tucked her curls behind her ear and leaned down and kissed him once more. It was only then that she felt the tingle of another Grey Warden returning to the Keep and began to grin against Anders' lips.

"I will be  _right_  back," she said quickly, untangling herself from him.

"Was the kiss that bad?" he replied with a pout.

She rolled her eyes. "I will make it up to you, soon, I promise," she said as she legged it across the garden.

"I'll hold you to that," he called before settling back against the tree to eat the rest of the grapes.

**…**

Nathaniel had been writing to Delilah regularly since they had found one another again. But he had been too busy to write to her this week, thus she had decided to come to see him in person instead. He felt guilty that she had come all this way just to see him, but she wasn't having any of it.

"A good thing I did come," she said, her tone unimpressed. "You are marching off to war tomorrow!"

He groaned. "It isn't war, Delilah. A simple battle, one well planned."

She pursed her lips. "We all know plans can fall through, Nathaniel."

"We'll be careful, Sister. Please don't fret."

" _Fret_ ," she scoffed. "I am not fretting, dear brother. Some notice would have been nice though; I  _am_  pregnant. Imagine if I had chosen to ride all the way here tomorrow instead of today, only to find you gallivanting off with our dear Commander. I would have been most displeased," she said, her voice full of mirth as her lips curved into a smile.

He blushed slightly. "Apologies, Sister. I will make sure to write to you more often."

"I should think so," she said primly, teasing him. "Just because you're a Warden now doesn't mean you can forget your nobleman's manners."

He smirked. "Of course not, my lady."

She giggled. "Oh stop. You can give me a tour of our old home instead; I'd like to see what the Commander's done with the terrible décor." She took his arm and he led her through the yard.

"The décor wasn't  _that_  terrible before," he muttered.

"It was dire!"

He chuckled. "Well, don't expect much of an improvement; there are still scorch marks on some of the walls."

"I don't know, sounds like it might add character at least."

**…**

Arietta's daggers glanced harmlessly off of Varel's armour, and she spun back, a wild smile on her face.

It had been the Seneschal's idea to come out into the yard to train; apparently Arietta had been working far too hard recently and needed a break. She had, naturally, refused, but he had insisted on at least a sparring match to limber her up for the inevitable fight with the Mother. That she had agreed to.

Varel was faster than she had thought he might be, and much stronger too, but he was a little predictable; he favoured certain moves, old soldier training patterns. Even so, that greatsword of his was deadly and she had to be quick on her feet to avoid getting severed in half.

"Very good, Commander," he called out as her blades connected with his armour again.

"You're not so bad yourself, old timer," she teased, a grin on her face.

He chuckled, hefting his sword once more to swing at her. "A mixed compliment."

"Still a compliment though." She twirled away from his furious swings, ducking under them to stab at the backs of his knees. He grunted from the force of her hit and staggered forward. She brought her dagger to his neck, lightning fast, panting hard. "I do believe I win this round, Seneschal."

"I concede," he said breathlessly. "Well fought, Commander."

Arietta pulled her dagger back and helped the man up, a smile broad across her face. "Thank you, I needed that."

He nodded nobly. "I am happy to serve." He rolled his shoulders. "If you'll excuse these old aching bones though?"

She dipped her head, still smiling. "Of course; we will talk more later."

She sheathed her daggers back on her belt and then wiped the sweat from her forehead.

"Brava!" someone called a little way's away, drawing Arietta's attention. She knew the woman at Nathaniel's side even before Nathaniel approached with her and gave introductions.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Commander," Delilah said, her voice sweet and polite, eyes cheerful. She was practically glowing, Arietta noted, remembering the news of her pregnancy.

"And you," Arietta replied. "I believe congratulations are in order; I heard you were with child. "

Delilah grinned in that way that all mothers did, so full of pride, it made Arietta's heartache to know that she would likely never experience such a feeling.

"Thank you! In truth, I'm terrified," she laughed. "And excited, and well, I rather don't know what to expect."

"You'll be a wonderful mother, 'Lah," Nathaniel murmured, squeezing his sister's hand softly. She smiled up at him and leaned into his shoulder.

"You know, I still can't believe you two are friends now," Delilah said, smiling, "considering my brother's failed attempt to assassinate you."

Arietta laughed. "I met one of my most loyal friends because he was sent to kill me; befriending would-be assassins seems to be a hobby of mine." Delilah and Nathaniel chuckled softly.

"Thankfully, assassins aren't her  _only_  loyal friends," a voice said from Arietta's left.

She turned, her heart skipping a beat as Alistair removed his helm, grinning goofily at her. She squealed, running and then leaping straight into his arms. He nearly fell backwards at the force with which she slammed into him, but he managed to keep them both upright as he wrapped his arms tight around her, breathing her in.

"Maker, I've missed you," he gushed, his breath hot against her ear.

Arietta had tears in her eyes as she clung to him, not believing he was really here. "I've missed you too," she practically sobbed, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

He pulled back, and she dropped to the ground, standing on her tip toes as she leaned against his chest, a grin on her face. "You look beautiful," he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

She blushed, tucking a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear, smiling coyly. "I'm all sweaty," she moaned.

"And I have helmet hair," he pointed out, making her giggle and try to fluff up his flattened hair, missing the little quiff he usually sported. "But you're perfect anyway."

She smiled weakly, tears threatening to spill. "As are you, love."

"We'll, uh, leave you both to it," she heard Nathaniel mutter, Delilah's laugh echoing across the yard.

Alistair leaned down and kissed her, soft but eager, and she melted into him, moans leaving her mouth at the long overdue contact. His hands were tight around her waist, pulling her flush against his cold armour; she shivered, another moan leaving her lips.

"Alibear!" Neri shouted out, interrupting them.

Alistair groaned loudly, shaking his head. "I told you not to use that nickname!" he complained.

"Better than Alismount though, am I right?" She winked at him.

Alistair blushed furiously, glancing awkwardly at Arietta. "Yes, much better than that."

Neri snickered. "What you doing here then?"

"It's great to see you too, Neri," Alistair drawled, making the elf laugh.

"You know what I mean,  _ass_."

"That's no way to treat your king," Arietta scolded, holding back a laugh.

"Oh sod off," Neri chuckled.

"I came to help," Alistair finally answered. "I know you're going to fight the Mother tomorrow; I want to lend you my sword."

"We've already got plenty of swords," Neri teased.

Alistair rolled his eyes. "I meant my arm as well."

"Just the one arm?" Neri quipped.

Alistair groaned. "Maker, give me strength." He looked down at Arietta who was snickering. "How do you put up with her every single day?"

Arietta smiled, blue eyes sparkling. "Easily: I pawn her off on the other Wardens or let her shoot spells at the soldiers."

"Hey!" Neri protested. "Is that why I've been on training duty  _all_  week?"

Arietta sniggered into her hand, and then looked up at her husband. "Love, as much as I want you here, I also don't want you in danger…"

He looked hurt at that. "I might sit, looking pretty, on the throne most days, but I still train in the yard every morning. I haven't lost my edge in a fight, love."

Arietta worried at her lip. "We can discuss it later," she said softly, and Alistair sighed.

"Universal for: 'you're not coming, end of'," Neri helpfully provided; Arietta glared at her.

"I should introduce you to my Wardens," Arietta said, smiling up at Alistair.

"Oh alright, but then I am having you all to myself," he replied, tugging her close again to kiss her softly on the lips.

"Word of warning: don't let Max do the introductions; he takes like an hour!" Neri laughed as she left the two of them to 'catch up.'

**…**

Coline checked over the jars of acid once more. She hadn't been feeling herself ever since Charmaine had told her of her father's true nature. She kept focused, busy, not wanting to think about any of it; if she did she was likely to lose her mind. Over and over again she had been used and abused; it was all she knew, all she ever expected. She doubted she would feel  _normal_  until her father lay dead at her feet. But even then there was no guarantee, was there? Would her world suddenly stop spinning and snap back into place, to the way it had been before?

She wouldn't know, not until her father was dead, but in order for that to happen she would need to get an invitation to Fergus' wedding. There was only one person in all of Thedas who would be able to convince the Commander to let Coline attend, and she was walking across the yard now.

Coline was on her feet, approaching the elf before she even realised what she was doing. "Neri!" she called out, wincing slightly at the desperate tone in her voice. She reined in her emotions, slipped the mask of cool indifference back over her face. She would never convince Neri she knew what she was doing if she was an emotional mess.

"Might I speak with you a moment?" she asked when the elf stopped and gave her a curious look.

Neri nodded, one eyebrow arched inquisitively, a slight smirk playing about her lips.

Coline cleared her throat and pulled the elf to one side. "I need a favour from you," she began, her voice sounding perhaps a touch too authoritative.

Neri seemed to pick up on that, tilting her head with a frown forming between her brows. "Sounds more like you're gonna demand something of me," she retorted.

Coline let out a long sigh. "I didn't mean… I apologise. This is not easy for me to ask and I have little I can repay you with. Perhaps if you wanted things to be more interesting in the bedroom, I could-"

Neri held up her hands, looking alarmed. "Coline, what the shit? If it's a favour then it's a favour, you don't need to  _repay_  me." The elf shook her head. "What is this about?"

Coline blushed, and then cleared her throat. "My father. I need to attend Fergus Cousland's wedding so that I can assassinate him but Arietta refused me."

"Well, no shit," Neri deadpanned.

She straightened her back. "I have done this before – I know how to make it quick and quiet. I will not ruin the wedding. I had wanted to explain as much to the Commander but she asked me to leave her office."

Neri laughed loudly. "Asked you to leave, did she?" she snickered. "Are you really surprised? You want to  _murder_  someone at her brother's wedding. This isn't Tevinter where a party without at least one murder is considered dull, you know."

Coline felt her chest tighten; if Neri wouldn't help her she wasn't sure what she would do. She had to kill him. She  _had_  to. "It  _has_  to be at the wedding," Coline implored. "I do not know when I will next get to go back to Orlais or when I could catch him off guard to do such a thing. He will be distracted at this wedding, thus it is my absolute best chance to do this cleanly. I would not ask this favour of you if I had other options; I do not like being indebted to anyone." It was too close to be controlled by someone, being under their thumb, being owned by them, and she had experienced enough of that on the streets to never ever want it again. She was her own person, she  _would_  be free of her past, she would rid herself of the hold her father still held over her, of the pain he had caused her and so many others.

"I get that…" Neri sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "But it's still murder, and if something goes wrong it could mess up this Ferelden-Orlesian alliance thing."

"It won't go wrong. I will plan it meticulously," Coline said, practically begging now.

"I don't know, Coline…"

"Please, I wrongly murdered Charmaine's mother and now she is in danger from my father; he  _will_  kill her. I must stop him, I  _must_  make amends."

"How noble of you," Neri drawled, and Coline felt a sudden urge to see that wicked mouth of hers stretched wide with a ball gag. She shook her head slightly, clearing such thoughts.

"Will you help or not?" Coline snapped, folding her arms.

Neri rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'll help," she sighed, making Coline's shoulders sag in relief. "You'll only do something stupid if I don't, right? At least this way Arietta will know exactly what you plan. And she  _will_  want to know the plan. Every detail of it. Maybe if you plan it  _with_  someone…" Neri rubbed her chin, and then her eyes locked onto something behind Coline and a wicked smirk spread across Neri's lips.

Coline felt her stomach drop as she slowly turned and realised who Neri was staring at. Of course she would pick  _him_.

"Nathaniel!" Neri called before Coline could stop her. The archer gave them a curious look and then approached. Coline cursed under her breath, turning back around to hide the blush on her cheeks. It was absurd that she got like this around him. She did not  _feel_. She did not get attached. She was not  _intimate_  with anyone. Ever. She just couldn't - wouldn't - do that. She wasn't capable. Wasn't willing. So  _why_  did her body respond like this every time he was near? It had even been the cause of her losing that damned archery match, she was sure of it.

"You wanted me?" Nathaniel asked.  _Yes_ , her subconscious supplied most unhelpfully.

"You're attending Fergus' wedding, right?" Neri asked, a twinkle in her eyes still.

Nathaniel glanced between them both wearily and nodded. "I believe so, yes."

"Perfect! You can help Coline here assassinate her father," Neri said with a broad grin.

Nathaniel balked at that. "I can?"

"Yup! I think it's the only way Arietta will agree to let Coline assassinate her father at Fergus' wedding; she won't want to just leave her to it."

"Aren't you also attending this wedding?" Nathaniel asked. "Could you not also assist with this?"

"I  _could_. But I can't say I'm too good at plotting assassinations – good at avoiding them, perhaps, or just not getting killed, but actually planning one? Not my thing." There was a knowing smile on the elf's lips and Coline wanted to strangle her pretty little throat. She was leaving words unspoken, but Coline knew ' _And besides, watching you two work together will be way more fun._ '

"I will help, if you wish it of me," Nathaniel said softly. Coline finally looked at him, scowling.

"I don't want to owe you for this. I-"

"You won't owe me. I know what it's like to not know who your father truly was. Maybe if I had seen what my father was sooner, I could have stopped him from destroying our lives. As is… perhaps I can simply help you to stop your father from ruining more lives."

Coline opened and closed her mouth a few times. And then nodded her head, relenting.

Neri clapped them both on the shoulder. "Excellent! I will inform the Commander at some point. You two best get planning. I recommend going somewhere out of the way, a quiet secluded spot so nobody hears about your plotting. And I heard scented candles were good for planning assassinations." She walked off, snickering and Coline glared at her back.

"I… cannot plan with you today, Coline," Nathaniel began. She turned to look at him, tucking her hair behind her ear. "My sister is at the Keep at the moment and I expect I will be busy giving her a tour of the place for much of the day."

"Your sister… I heard you reconnected with her, that is good," Coline said, sounding like a tongue-tied teen.

Nathaniel smiled and she was nearly knocked off her feet by it. "She is with child. I'm going to be an uncle," he said proudly. "We've lost so much, it is nice to have this… to have her, to see her so happy."

"I shan't keep you from her then," Coline said with a small smile.

"I'd like you to meet her, actually."

"You... would?"

"Of course. She's meeting all of the Wardens. I think she wants to make sure I don't get hurt," he said with a wry smile and a shake of his head. "Sisters… they never do stop worrying."

She nodded shyly and he gave her his arm, which, reluctantly she took. Surprisingly, she welcomed the heat of his body touching hers; it was so different to her usual reaction of disgust that she was struck entirely dumb by the entire thing. Maybe working with him wouldn't be  _quite_  so terrible.

**…**

Alistair, perhaps, hadn't paid as much attention to the tour and to the Wardens and staff he was introduced to as he should have – but it wasn't his fault! Arietta was  _very_  distracting. Her cheeks were rosy from the bitter cold outside clashing with the blazing heat of the Keep, her chestnut hair wild and untamed, falling around her face in soft waves, her bright blue eyes, framed by long dark lashes, her pink lips, always smiling. She was as breath-taking as ever, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

All evening he had stayed at her side, watching her interacting with the men and women around her, being shown around the Keep, when all he wanted to do was drag her to the nearest bedroom and rip that armour off of her.

He was at the dinner table now, staring at her instead of eating the meal in front of him; she was laughing with Oghren about the good old days, as all of the other Wardens mingled and ate amicably. It was how he had remembered his time in the Wardens, back before everything went so horribly wrong. It brought a smile to his face to see the Order like this again: the comradery, the teasing and the laughing; this was how it  _should_  be.

Neri snapped her fingers in front of his face, pulling him out of his thoughts. He frowned at her. "What?"

" _This_ is a proper stew, not like that shit you tried to call food during the Blight."

"Hey, for all your complaining, you still ate two bowlfuls every night."

" _Ate_  is debateable; more like I choked it down with copious amounts of Oghren's brew."

"Oh and like your cooking is any better? You gave us all food poisoning the one time you tried! At least I didn't nearly kill off all the remaining Wardens of Ferelden."

She snorted, grinning at him. "I did  _not_  nearly kill us all off! You had a belly ache that night and wouldn't stop crying about it!"

He pouted at her. "It  _really_  hurt!"

She rolled her eyes, still smiling. "It's good to have you back, even if it is temporarily."

He bumped his shoulder into hers. "I knew you missed me."

"I never said that."

"You  _implied_  it."

She shook her head. "Oh eat your damned stew already," she said as she shovelled more into her own mouth.

Arietta tapped her glass from his side, rising to stand over the table. "Alright you lot!" she called out, trying to sound serious. "Tomorrow some of us march for the Mother's lair. I expect you all at the gate, bright and early, ready for a long trek and a tough battle. You've all worked hard and I'm proud of you – so let's enjoy this last night together and hope that our reunion meal is not short a single seat when this is all over."

Her Wardens cheered, raising their glasses, and she smiled down at Alistair; he kissed her hand, a bright smile on his lips too, and she suddenly felt much better about everything. Having Alistair back at her side had bolstered her, stopped her from feeling so exposed and lonely. He was exactly what she needed; the strength and support she required to see this through to the bitter end. They would win. They would end this darkspawn threat. And she  _would_  be with him again, in Denerim, back on the throne where they both belonged.


	46. The Night Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three days late but worth the wait? Yeah, hope so! 
> 
> Nothing but smut here folks. 
> 
> Arietta and Alistair are up first. Then we have Raf and Max then finally Neri and Anders... so pick and choose what you are comfortable reading :)

 

It probably wasn’t very surprising that Arietta and Alistair were the first to leave the table, both of them giggling and hurrying up the stairs to her chambers. They were both tipsy – not anywhere near the levels of inebriated they had been on their wedding night, but rather merry all the same.

Arietta had no clue what tomorrow would bring – she could plan and plan and plan, but at the end of the day plans never worked out; they always changed. She hoped her Wardens were ready for whatever they had to face; she hoped her Keep was too.

But right now, none of that really mattered, only Alistair did; she needed to be with him, to feel him. He was her rock, her strength and support; her very existence depended on him.

The door to her chambers was thrown open, his hands greedily grabbing at her, already tugging off her armour even before she had fully closed the door behind them. He pushed her against it, breathing hard, his lips devouring her mouth. She moaned, her head lolling back as she gave herself into his touch, relishing not having to be in charge a moment more, even if it was just for one night.

“Maker, I missed you so much,” Alistair breathed, pulling back a little, leaving their lips brushing against one another as they both panted heavily.

Arietta stared up into his eyes, her body already singing with want. “Please, love, don’t keep me waiting,” she replied breathlessly.

He inhaled sharply, seemingly drawing the air from her lungs in a rush, before his mouth crushed down upon hers once again. His tongue pushed past her lips, finding no resistance as she willing opened her mouth for him, wanting to feel the familiar heat and pressure of his tongue rolling through her mouth.

Her armour clattered to the ground; she hadn’t even noticed that Alistair was undoing it until she was left standing in just her underclothes and boots. He ripped her shirt off of her next, surprising them both with his hasty desperate need; her boots and smalls followed, and she was just as eager with his armour, deftly unbuckling it as they moved toward the bed. She got the last buckle undone just as the backs of his legs hit the bed, and then his armour and clothes were also scattered across the ground, discarded because there had been too much distance, too much in the way between them being together for far too long.

She was already breathless, her core burning with her desire – she had no idea how she had lasted this long without him, without his touch, without him buried deep inside of her as they moved together, crying out each other’s names. She never wanted to be apart from him again; she wasn’t sure she could handle it.

Arietta gasped as Alistair lifted her gracefully into the air before placing her down on the bed, his strong arms holding her close. She groaned at the sight of him, all rippling muscles, and tan skin, firm and hard. Her hands roamed over his bared chest, taking in every detail, every scar, every hair, every beauty mark, even though she knew it all by heart anyway; she needed to know he hadn’t changed, that _they_ hadn’t changed, that they were still strong, still together. Her nails scraped lightly across his skin, knowing it would draw out a breathy groan from his succulent lips; she wasn’t disappointed, but he cut the groan short by kissing her again – a kiss so filled with passion it made her whimper, her whole body trembling with need.

Alistair’s weight pressed close to her, heat radiating off of him as his hands slid up her porcelain skin, over her breasts to knead the pliant flesh, her heavy breasts fitting perfectly in his broad hands as he squeezed them gently at first, and then a little more insistently. Arietta moaned softly, those brilliant blue eyes of hers dark and hooded, her skin a beautiful rosy pink. He twisted one of her pert nipples with just the right amount of pressure that he knew would drive her wild; her whole body shuddered as she cried out, arching off of the bed, pressing her breasts further into his palms. He swallowed much of that cry with his mouth, his tongue tangling with hers as his hands continued to work her nipples and cup her breasts. 

He kissed her everywhere. Her neck, her ear, her jaw, her shoulders, her breasts, making her shiver with every gentle caress of his lips, every little lick of his tongue or nip of his teeth. He needed to see and feel every inch of her as he committed it all to memory over and over again because one memory of her was never enough. Her hands were in his hair, slowly running familiar circles over his scalp, teasing at those golden tresses, soft pleading moans leaving her lips as she encouraged him to move lower.

Arietta was grateful as Alistair’s rough calloused fingers slid over the skin of her stomach, his mouth following, leaving her breasts as he moved lower. His wicked tongue licked a trail of devastation down her body, tormenting her with heat and promises, leaving her shivering in anticipation. Her head lolled back into the pillow as that hot wet tongue of his dipped into her navel, sending jolts of pleasure rippling through her, the pit of her stomach tightening with want.

He kissed her inner thigh next, soft and sweet, so close to her centre but not close enough, then he inhaled deeply, breathing her in, and the ragged exhale that followed washed over her sex, bathing her in damp heat that had her moaning out his name, pleading with him for more. He murmured soft words of praise against the sensitive skin of her thigh, his words broken by little licks and nips that had her hips bucking of their own accord, but his hands came up to rest on her hips, slowing their movements with reassuring caresses that did little to see her desire quenched.  

Finally, those thick fingers slid through her folds to circle her throbbing nub, making her hips buck wildly up into his palm as grateful cries left her kiss-bruised lips. Two fingers slid over that bundle of nerves, slowly, too slowly; she could feel her core clenching, heat building there, washing over her in waves, but none of it was enough to see her cum, and she writhed on the bed with frustrated pleas leaving her lips.

His fingers continued to circle the hood of her nub, keeping the pressure light even as her body bucked and squirmed, desperate for more. She looked breath-taking like this, all splayed out on the rumpled sheets of the bed, skin flushed and chest heaving, hands kneading her breasts, teeth sunk deep into her lip as she tried to keep a hold on her frustration, her legs trembling and squeezing against his arm, attempting to find more friction as her hips rocked into him. Still he kept his pressure light and speed slow, his own erection aching painfully as he watched the thick cream of her arousal slip out of her clenching core, making him want nothing more than to be buried deep within her quivering sheath.

He slipped those two fingers lower, unable to resist having a taste of her sweet juices; she moaned as his fingers slid close to her entrance, only to be drawn away again at the last moment once he had coated his fingers. She watched him, lashes fluttering open as he lifted his fingers to his mouth and then slowly licked them clean, groaning at the sweet womanly flavour that assaulted his mouth, the flavour he had gone far too long without.

His fingers returned to her hot centre, this time his thumb rubbed her clit, circling it with more force than before as his two wet fingers probed at her core, seeking entrance; the muscles there opened up for him eagerly, and his fingers slid inside that hot wet channel. Her inner walls clenched around him, drawing him in deeper as he began to thrust them in and out of her, stretching the tight muscles. Arietta moaned, her voice cracking as he curled his fingers, seeking out that sweet spot within; her hands abandoned her breasts, fisting the sheets instead, leaving those flushed mounds to jiggle with each hard thrust of his fingers, and each shudder of want it sent exploding through her when he stroked her in just the right place.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he murmured softly, eyes transfixed as she squirmed under his ministrations.

“Alistair, please-“

“I’ve got you, love. I’ve always got you.”

She whimpered, body trembling as his thumb continued to circle her clit as those two thick fingers thrummed against her sweet spot, over and over; she could feel her core clenching tightly around his thrusting digits, feel her whole body tightening as the heat pooling at the pit of her stomach grew to unbearable heights, an orgasm so strong building in her core she felt like she would be ripped apart. He kept his pace steady, denying her release until she was thrashing on the bed, crying out his name, begging him to let her cum.

He would never tire of seeing her like this, losing all control of her body and voice, on the verge of her orgasm, one that _he_ had built up; it was moments like this that he found himself surprised that he had her at all, that this incredible woman had fallen in love with him. He picked up the pace of his thrusts, and her orgasm tore through her, a scream on her lips, as her sheath clenched and unclenched around his fingers, hot cream surging over them with each spasm of her inner walls. He continued to circle her clit and thrust his fingers in and out of her, slower this time, as she continued to tremble on the bed. He kissed her stomach, licking her soft skin as he whispered endearments to her until she finally re-opened her eyes, blinking at him dazedly.

He smiled down at her, his hazel eyes dark and cheeks flushed as he fingers continued to move in and out of her; she moaned, rocking into his touch, licking her lips as her eyes roamed down his torso to his swollen length, standing tall, the head purple and glistening with precum.

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand away from her core and up to her mouth; she gave him the briefest of smirks before her tongue darted out to lick his digits; the answering groan that rumbled out of his throat sent new waves of desire surging through her, and she took that moment to sit up quickly, surprising him. And then she sealed her lips around that thick and glistening head, making a ragged, broken cry leave his mouth, his entire body tensing where he knelt on the bed in front of her.  She moaned around him, lapping up the bitter taste of him, and he shuddered, a broken groan rumbling through his chest that only made her suck on him more eagerly, taking him in deeper.

She could tell he was holding back, not wanting to thrust into her mouth, not wanting to hurt her; his body was trembling with his restraint, but she wanted more of him, wanted to taste all of him, to feel him cuming in her mouth, to look up and see the grimace of pleasure on his face. Her hands slid up and down that hard-as-steel length, stroking the velvety-soft skin, pumping him as her mouth licked and sucked on the head, bringing him closer to release.

Alistair went taut, so close to the edge, and that’s when he put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly to stop her. Reluctantly, she pulled back, her lips leaving his salty length as she stared up at him; he was panting hard, sweat dripping down his brow, and his eyes were dark, lashes hooding much of them as he watched her, such adoration in that gaze it made her heart swell.

She smiled and leaned back on the bed, opening her legs for him. “Please,” she whispered softly.

Arietta watched him swallow, watched as his chest heaved; he looked gorgeous as he tried to rein in his desire. He wanted to take his time with her, but neither of them could resist one another for long. She crooked her finger, flashing him a smile as she opened her legs wider and Alistair moaned before surging forward.

He kissed her again, tasting her arousal and the bitter taste of his precum as his tongue plunged into her mouth. He couldn’t take his time with her now, neither of them wanted to be apart a moment longer. He lined himself up, his cock at her entrance, and then she bucked up into him just as he thrust downwards, sheathing himself deep in her core in one brutal stroke. They both cried out, her from the sudden but very welcome intrusion stretching and filling her, and him from the tight wet channel that was squeezing around him. They were both panting heavily, lips brushing against one another as he stared down at her, committing to memory once more the look of want and need and lust and love in his wife’s eyes.

His lips closed over hers, kissing her desperately, wanting to feel connected to her in every way possible, buried in her, tasting her, his body pressed against hers. She moaned, her hips wiggling, and then he was moving, drawing out only to plunge back in. Her legs wrapped around him, angling so he could go deeper and harder into her tight core.

She lost herself to the sensation of him thrusting into her and then dragging back out, relished how he occasionally used short, sharp shallow thrusts that drove her wild as he rubbed against her sweet spot before he plunged brutally back into her, deep and hard. She clung to him, hips rocking to greet him every time, breathy moans of praise leaving her lips in between their panted kiss.

She never wanted this embrace to end, never wanted him to leave again. She had pushed aside just how much she missed him, buried it under piles of paper work, tried not to think about it, tried to stop it overwhelming her. But she needed him more than she ever thought it possible to need anyone. He was part of her, never more than right now, joined as they were, body and soul.

“ _I love you_ ,” she murmured over and over as her orgasm built, her hips grinding wildly into him, urging him on. His thrusts picked up their pace, ploughing home, long and hard with each stroke.

She came, squeezing tight around him, crying out his name, her nails digging deep into his back; he shuddered, tensing and then he too was crying out and spilling himself into her in hot white spurts, filling her with his seed.

He collapsed down onto her, breathing ragged, sweat soaking the back of his neck; she stroked his hair as he kissed her throat, whispering soft encouraging words to her as she caught her breath.

“ _Never_ leave me again,” Arietta murmured into his ear, her breath hot and damp.

He shivered and looked down into her eyes, a smile at his lips. “Only if you promise not to leave me too.”

She laughed, light and carefree, all of her worries forgotten, for now, and pulled the man she loved back down for a kiss.

* * *

“I’m still disappointed my brew didn’t work on you,” Max said softly, a smile breaking through that thick beard of his.

Rafael snorted. “I’m not.”

Max pouted but it failed as he tried to hold back laughter. “I’ll just have to make you a stronger version; I’ve already been working on the recipe. I need a few outlandish ingredients… but I figure once this Broodmother has been taken care of we can go find them – we only have to find a swamp that is always sunny where this tropical fungi grows and then a lichen that only grows in waterlogged caves near lyrium and a-“

“Max.”

“Hm?” Max turned to look at the man sitting next to him on the sofa, the flickering firelight casting much Rafael’s face in shadow.

“I’d rather not waste this night talking, not when-“ Rafael sighed. “Well, we don’t know what’s coming tomorrow.” He took a long pull from his glass of whisky, finishing it before putting it down on the table.

Max frowned at him. “We’ll win, that’s what will happen tomorrow.”

“Max…”

“No. I won’t hear your doubts and fears. We. Will. Be. Fine,” he reassured him as he shuffled closer to him, taking one of Rafael’s hands in his.

A small smile touched Rafael’s lips as he squeezed Max’s hand. “I wish I had your optimism and certainty.”

Max gave him a cheeky grin, blue eyes glistening. “I’m surprised it hasn’t rubbed off on you by now, we’ve done _plenty_ of rubbing.”

Rafael smirked. “Perhaps I need a little more; it’s worth a try, at least.”

“I’m sure I can arrange that,” Maxime gave him a sultry smile before leaning in and kissing him.

Max tasted of the little chocolate mints that they always seemed to have a stash of in their room, tasted of the rich wine he’d had by the fire when they retired for the night and under it all was the dark and delicious taste of Max, the indescribably heady intoxicating taste; one kiss with him was enough to drive Rafael mad with lust. But he didn’t want this night to be about lust; he didn’t know what would happen in the coming fight, the thought of losing the man in his arms was too painful to think about, but he loved him, and he needed Max to know that, to be reminded of it, just in case.

Rafael dipped his tongue into the mage’s mouth, slow and gentle, drawing a quiet little moan from him. He deepened it, tilting Max’s head back as he tugged gently on those messy red strands he called hair, until his head was back against the sofa, creamy white neck all exposed for him. He kissed Max’s beard, nuzzling into it before he reached the soft skin of his throat. He licked and sucked on the corded muscle, biting down on the already hammering pulse point, leaving a mark there for all to see, only encouraged to suck and bite harder by Max’s whimpered moans.

“I will not lose you,” Rafael muttered against his skin, making Max tremble.

Max slipped his hot hands up and under Rafael’s shirt, feeling every inch of that muscled and scarred back, urging him closer, until their bodies were snug together, entangled on the sofa. Rafael kissed him again, flooding his mouth with heat, a hand still gripping his hair, holding his head back; he gave into the kiss, gave up all control because he knew Rafael needed that, needed to feel like he could control at least something in their lives. And Max needed Rafael to know that he was here, that they were okay, that they were _going_ to be okay.

Max lifted Rafael’s shirt up and over his head, exposing all of that dark skin and hard muscle; his inky black hair fell around his face in wild spirals and Max lifted his hand and brushed an errant curl away, tucking it behind Raf’s ear.

“You’re not going to lose me, not ever,” Max promised.

And then Rafael was kissing him again, more fiercely this time, tongue plunging into his mouth, depriving him of oxygen with the intensity and heat of the kiss. Max pulled the rogue closer to him, his arms wrapped tight around those narrow boyish hips until Rafael was properly straddling him.

Raf pulled back from the kiss, breathless, stormy grey eyes drinking him in, searching his face for answers, clearly still uncertain, still worried.

“I’m here, I’ll always be here,” Max swore to him as he cupped his face.  

He watched Rafael’s throat bob as he swallowed and then nodded as he pulled back, leaving their embrace and the sofa. “Come here,” he whispered, giving Max his hand. He took it eagerly, being helped up from the sofa, and then they were walking to the bed, Rafael deftly removing his leggings and smalls, leaving his entire body bared, distracting Max quite thoroughly from removing his own clothes.

Rafael smirked and helped the mage tug down his leggings before he ripped open his shirt, letting the buttons skitter across the hard stone ground. Then they were kissing again and falling into the rumpled sheets of their shared bed. Max leaned over him, tall, slim body pressing against Rafael’s harder and more muscled frame, their legs entangled together as they kissed once more.

Their cocks pressed against one another, twitching whenever one of them groaned or shifted in their embrace, both of them grinding against the other. Max moved his fingers up along Raf’s rough and stubbled jaw to bury his hands in his hair as he plunged his tongue deep into the rogue’s mouth, moaning at the rich taste of whisky that assaulted his senses; Rafael’s hands wrapped around his back but even the drink couldn’t mask the fact that Raf’s hands were trembling slightly, his worries and fears still at the forefront of his mind. Max knew he needed to change that. He rocked his hips, letting the head of his prick slide up the length of Raf’s shaft and Rafael shuddered, groaning loudly.

Rafael couldn’t take a moment more of Max’s teasing- kisses no long enough with the mage’s wriggling hips driving him wild; he pulled back, breathless and slowly sat up, encouraging Max to do the same, before he shuffled up the bed until his back hit the headboard. Max followed, coming to straddle his legs, his shirt still hanging loosely from his shoulders where Rafael had ripped it open. Max smiled at him, long soft fingers running up his chest, making him shiver.

Max drank him in, darkened blue eyes roaming over the toned and tanned expanse of Rafael gloriously naked; his black hair had fallen over one stormy eye, and his cheeks were flushed, lips parted, and he always took Max’s breath away, never more so than like this, when it was just the two of them in a fire lit room.

Rafael hissed as Max’s hot body pressed against his, those long pale legs locking around his hips, and arms wrapping around his neck. He was impossibly warm, both of them already burning up before they had even truly begun. And yet, he needed him closer, needed to be inside of him, moving with him. He couldn’t let him go, couldn’t for fear of losing him.

One of Max’s arms slipped from around his neck, dropping down between them, his long soft fingers curling around both of their cocks. He stroked them together, making them both shudder and groan at the friction of their lengths sliding against one another as both of their hips rocked up into the tight circle of Max’s hand.

Max twisted his wrist as he dragged his fingers up both of their shafts, adding to the sensations tearing through them both at the intimate contact. Max’s cock was longer, slimmer, the head a rosy pink, a stark contrast to the dark brown of Raf’s shaft and its engorged veins that protruded and throbbed as Max’s fingers slid over the velvety skin. Rafael’s hands squeezed tighter where they were gripping Max’s thighs, fingers digging into flesh; Max’s other hand still fisted Rafael’s messy hair, pulling the strands almost painfully as both of them teetered on the edge of release, desperate for more but not wanting this to end.  

“ _Please_ ,” Rafael bit out, his voice hoarse, rough and sexy, his head thrown back against the headboard; Max bit his lip, stifling a moan at the sight of Rafael so close to the edge like that.

The Fade tingled at his fingertips and a moment later his hands were slicked with oil; he continued to stroke their shafts, coating their swollen lengths, as their breath hitched with anticipation and desire. His fingers uncurled from around their throbbing erections, and he sat up on his knees instead, moving his hand lower to touch his entrance, fingering his eager hole as he oiled it up.

Rafael was staring up at him, watching, his eyes black as midnight as he panted heavily. Raf lifted his hand and wrapped his fingers around Max’s shaft, making him shudder, before he began to stroke slowly, lazily as he continued to watch Max ready himself. Rafael dragged his calloused thumb up the underside of Max’s cock and it made him moan out and slide his fingers deep into his hole, scissoring them, desperate to feel Rafael’s throbbing shaft deep inside him.

Finally, Max gave him a nod, mouth hanging open, pink lips wet and swollen, blue eyes blown dark with need as he lifted himself up, positioning himself over Rafael’s cock. His hand left Max’s shaft, holding onto his own instead, keeping it steady, the swollen head rubbing against the oiled up hole of Max’s ass. Slowly Max lowered himself down onto it, the head of his cock pushing past the ring of muscle into the hot channel beyond; Rafael gripped both of Rafael’s shoulders, his arms shaking as he sunk lower, hoarse moans falling from those luscious lips of his until he was fully seated. They held each other, Max still gripping his shoulders tightly as he accommodated the throbbing length of Rafael’s burning hot shaft, and Rafael held Max’s hips, keeping him steady, both breathing hard until Max was comfortable enough to move.

The mage nodded once and then rocked his hips, a deep rumbling groan leaving his mouth, and then he was moving up the long length of Rafael’s cock before sliding back down with force. Max looked incredible like this, riding up and down, skin heated, hair messy, his shirt still hanging loosely from his shoulders, his eyes rolling back into his head as Rafael began to move his hips too. He couldn’t help but run his hands up Max’s chest, around his neck and into his hair, tugging the mage down for a hot and desperate kiss, all tongues and panted gasps.

Max cried out as Rafael wrapped his fingers around his aching cock, stroking in time with their movements, thumb flicking across his head and slit on the upstroke. Max was barely clinging onto reality now, his body moving as his mind was overrun by sensation and heat, flooded with desire. He was vaguely aware of Rafael pleading with him, of Max’s answering moans and groans; words unable to form.

Max came first, clenching hard around him, the mage’s seed spurting over the hand Rafael still had fisted around his shaft, pumping him dry. Max’s muscles clenched so tightly around him - so hot, dragging him in deeper - that it drove him over the edge too. And Rafael came with a cry, clutching Max close to him as they both trembled.

“I’m here,” Max whispered at his ear, breath still ragged. “And I will be when you get back from the lair too.”

Rafael shivered, a whimper leaving his lips. He couldn’t form words so he simply kissed him again, hoping he was right.

* * *

 

“I reckon we could get through a few of these positions tonight,” Neri said as she wandered around her bedroom, wearing nothing but her silk dressing gown untied over her shoulders. “And I have a few ideas for camp tomorrow night, you know, providing we’re done with the whole Mother thing by then.”

Anders smirked up at her, lounging naked on her bed, his cock already hardening again. “I have a few ideas of my own,” he husked, his eyes roaming up her slim long legs and over the start of the curve of her ass only just visible under her robe. She turned to face him, a hand on her hip, opening the robe enough for him to see one perky breast and her still wet and glistening mound.

She smirked. “That right, Sparkles?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he breathed.

Her brow quirked in challenge and he gave her a lurid smile before hopping off of the bed, and stalking toward her, his semi bouncing with each stride. She leaned back against him as he came to stand behind her, feeling his half-hard cock pressing against her ass. Her head fell back against his shoulder, both of them fitting together perfectly, as they always had. His hot hands roamed over her flushed skin, soft and gentle fingers using feather light touches as he kissed her neck, her shoulder, and then sucked down on the point of her ear, drawing out a ragged shaky moan from deep in her throat. His long fingers slipped down through her folds, stroking her as the other caressed her breast, tugging gently on a sensitive nipple.

She shivered as his tongue slid down the edge of her ear, darting quickly into the inner shell before he drew her lobe between his lips, sucking softly with just enough pressure to drive her wild. Her knees trembled from his teasing touches, but Anders held her up, with one hand splayed across her waist, the other still fondling her, stroking her, fingers slipping into her core, thrusting slowly. She moaned out his name, all breathy and whispered, and his prick twitched against the curve of her ass, making her core clench in excitement.

A new rush of her juices coated his fingers as her core clenched and he pulled his fingers back, withdrawing them from her folds slowly before lifting his slicked digits to her mouth; she didn’t need to be asked, she opened her mouth and sucked eagerly, moaning quietly as her eyes fluttered closed. He let out a groan of his own as she sucked his fingers all the way to the back of her throat, her tongue swirling over them before he dragged his now clean fingers back out.

 “Sit,” he bade her, as he dragged the wooden chair from her desk to the centre of the room.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and then her long elven fingers circled his cock, pumping once, making him groan; a tiny act of defiance before she did as she was bade and sat. He strode toward her, circled her, his fingers trailing over her beautifully freckled shoulders. She watched him, brown eyes alight with playful curiosity. He smirked down at her and then yanked the tie from her robe away from her gown.

“Hands,” he commanded as he tried to keep a smile from his face.

Her eyes widened slightly and then she licked her lips and gave him her hands. He pulled them behind the chair, tying them in place with the silk cord. She could escape if she wanted to, loose as his ties were, but he knew she wouldn’t. She enjoyed the game as much as he did. He grabbed the tie from the robe he’d left discarded on the bed and tied her legs to the chair legs, leaving them spread wide, and her unable to move, for the most part.

He moved to stand in front of her, admiring the view: her body heaving with her panted breaths, her hairless core glistening, the thick white cream running down her inner thighs. Her eyes roamed up his body, teeth sinking into her lip to stop her from moaning, her hips rocking ever so slightly, desperate for his touch. She was gorgeous. And all his to play with.

Anders circled her again, calling forth magic to his fingertips as he lightly touched her shoulders; she cried out as the frost made contact with her skin, a shiver travelling down her spine, making her back arch and gooseflesh form across her skin where the quickly melting frost sparkled in the firelight.

She panted hard as her eyes flicked up to him, waiting for the next sting of cold to touch her skin. It never came. Anders smirked and then walked away instead, making her growl in annoyance. He came back a moment later, pushing her mirror; it was taller than him as he positioned it right in front of her and her eyes instinctively roamed over her own body and she swallowed hard, taking in her glistening folds and laboured breathing. He appeared next to her again, a wicked half smile on his lips.

“Don’t take your eyes off the mirror,” he ordered and she whimpered, her eyes obeying, focusing on their reflections only instead of the man to her right.

She watched as his fingers trailed down to her breast, she tensed waiting for the ice to come, instead he sent a spark skittering across her skin; she gasped, and her entire body lunged forward, leaving her slumped forward in the chair, which seemed to be exactly what Anders wanted if the smug smile on his face was anything to go by. He rubbed his fingers together, a cube of ice forming in his palm that quickly began to melt from the heat of his skin. She shuddered when it made contact with her flesh, cold, sharp, icy water dripping down the shallow valley of her breasts; it trickled all the way down her stomach to her navel and then dripped through her folds, sending delicious shivers through her.

He took that melting cube and circled it around her nipple, making it pucker from the cold as her whole body tensed, and then Anders leaned down, his hot wet mouth closing around the point of her ear as he drew it deep into his mouth, tongue swirling over the shell, nearly making her go cross-eyed from the overwhelming pleasure, but she forced her gaze to stay on the mirror, as instructed.

She watched as her hips rocked in time with his movements, watched as her eyes tried to flutter shut, her mouth opening as quiet little moans left her lips as that cube continued to roam over her nipple whilst his tongue did wicked things to her ear. She never really considered her body to be particularly sexy; she didn’t have curves or much in the way of tits and her hair was always a mess, but like this- all fucked out, her legs spread wide, skin glistening with sweat as her naked lover teased the shit out of her- she had to admit, _that_ was pretty fucking sexy.

The cube finally melted and his fingers squeezed her numbed nipple, letting out a bolt of electricity that travelled down the trail of water, straight to her core; her whole body shuddered as she cried out, and she could see Anders smirking around her ear as he slowly pulled back, leaving her ear cold as his saliva cooled. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, his amber eyes dark.

“I knew you’d enjoy this,” he murmured before moving to kneel in front of her.

She grinned as her eyes finally got a proper view of his perfect ass, long back, bent legs and golden hair, loose over his shoulders. “More and more by the minute,” she purred back.

He smirked up at her and then lowered his head, his hair brushing lightly against her thighs, and then his burning hot mouth was on her, sucking eagerly on her clit; her hips bucked into his touch as he ran the flat of his tongue through her folds, and she moaned, long and hard, grateful that he hadn’t wanted to gag her too. He panted against her nub, his hot breath making her tremble all over, making her want his hot mouth sucking on that little bundle of nerves until she was screaming. Instead, he turned his head and bit down hard on her thigh, making her cry out, her whole body jutting forward only to be stopped by a firm hand holding her back, the muscles in his arm and back rippling with the movement. He licked up the juices that had leaked onto her leg, soft moans leaving his lips as he slowly made his way back up to her core.

Neri looked incredible spread like this, her legs wide, her arms pulled back behind her so her chest was pushed outwards, her breasts perkier than usual thanks to the ice play. She was panting hard as he licked along her inner thigh, those dark eyes of hers were staring down at his reflection, barely able to resist looking directly at him, lashes fluttering closed as she whimpered. He finally took pity on her, groping a thigh with each hand, pushing her legs further apart as he kneaded the pliant flesh. She groaned, head falling back, and he stared at her glistening folds, at the thick cream wetting them; a shuddering breath left his mouth and he swallowed thickly.

“Maker, Neri. You look so good like this.”

“I taste even better,” she growled huskily.

He smirked. “That you do, love.” He moved forward, letting his tongue glide through her folds, licking up the copious juices, moaning softly into her heat. He would never get enough of the taste of her. She was the taste of rebellion, of freedom, of happiness, of pleasure itself and he was completely addicted to it and her. He dipped his tongue into her core, slipping past the fluttering muscles to taste the thick cream coating her quivering walls; she keened, her legs shaking and body shuddering as he continued to thrust his tongue in and out of her, curling and circling it along her walls and entrance, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

One of his hands slid up her navel and up to one of her breasts; more ice was called to his fingertips, making her arch and cry as the coldness brushed over a pert nipple providing an incredible counterpoint to the burning hot tongue plunging in and out of her core.

It wasn’t long until she climaxed, not when he replaced his hot tongue with two long fingers, sparking with electricity, to thrust and curl into her sex, not when that devilish mouth of his closed around her throbbing clit and sucked hard as the ice at his fingers continued to circle her nipple.

She pulled against her restraints, her legs locking tight around Anders’ head, a cry escaping her lips. She watched herself in the mirror, watched as her body shook, watched the expression on her face, watched as it crumpled into a grimace of pleasure as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her. It was intoxicating.

Neri was a quivering mess by the time he finally untied her from the chair and carried her to the bed; she snuggled up to him, and he had expected her to fall asleep in his arms; instead she looked up at him, a sparkle in her eyes, a grin spreading across her lips.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she said, her voice husky from crying out so much.

He smirked. “Nor I, you.”

 

 


	47. Not So Straightforward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me again! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the smut, I shall take the total silence in the comments to mean that you are all furiously masturbating, yes? ;)
> 
> So, the next few chapters are all battle based. Think there is 4 in total. Like, shit, who the fuck writes a four-chapter long battle? Me, apparently. Sigh. Giving a gore warning ahead of time. Expect things to be bloody, cause it's me. But hopefully it won't be too graphic. Then we hit the finale of Awakening. Got more after that, with so called 'bridge' chapters that will tie up shit and lead us into part 2 and DA2. This fic was supposed to be 100kish. Looks to be hitting 200k though. *groans* And I'm doing it again, that whole, not shutting up thing. Kthxbai. Oh and thank you Lys for betaing! I adore you babe.

For the first time in weeks, Arietta woke with a smile; Alistair was at her side, here with her and she finally didn't feel so hopeless. She snuggled into him, feeling the heat of his body pressed against hers; he moaned softly in answer, drawing her closer, and kissed the top of her head, inhaling her scent with a contented sigh.

"Morning," he said, drowsiness making his voice quiet and muffled.

"Morning," she said in reply, smiling brightly up at him.

He arched a brow, a goofy smile on his face. "You realise you're fighting darkspawn today, right? Why are you smiling?"

"Because I have you at my side."

"Does that mean I'm coming with you to the lair?" he asked hopefully.

She sighed. "I… don't know. Alistair, it could be dangerous – no, it  _will_  be dangerous."

"Staying here could be just as dangerous; you fear an attack, do you not?"

"I do. But I  _know_  there will be danger at the lair. It's a huge risk, love."

He pushed his lip out in a little pout that made her heart flutter. "We fight better together; I'll only worry if I'm not with you."

"And I will worry if you  _are_  with me; I'll be watching you and not the fight."

He rubbed his face, fingers scraping over the stubble on his jaw. "You really don't want me there?" he asked, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.

She bit her lip. "It isn't about  _wanting_ you there or not; we have to be smart. You  _will_  be safer here, at the Keep, than with me going into this Maker-forsaken lair. Anything could happen out there, and Ferelden cannot lose its king."

"Nor can it lose its queen," he said softly, fingers brushing her hair away from her face.

She cupped his hand with her own. "It won't,  _you_  won't. I'll have Neri watching my back."

"She  _is_  rather good at the whole killing darkspawn thing…" he admitted.

"And at protecting people," Arietta reassured him.

"Still, I don't like being side-lined; I came here to help."

"And you have, love. I won't be fighting the Mother to get rid of a threat; I will be fighting her so I can get back to you sooner. Trust me, that's  _much_  better motivation," she said before she kissed him softly.

He pulled her closer to him, deepening the kiss with a groan. "Then you better not leave me waiting long."

She smiled, shaking her head. "I won't. I promise."

* * *

 

Max took a deep breath as he pulled the last strap tight on Rafael's armour. Despite the brave face he was putting on, he  _was_  nervous, now more than ever. Rafael was going off to face Maker only knew what, while Max had to stay at the Keep. He was going to be a bag of nerves waiting around all day for them to return. He wished he could go with them, but Arietta needed two mages at the Keep _, just in case_. He let out the long drawn out sigh. He hoped the Keep wouldn't get attacked too, but the Commander seemed to think it was inevitable.

"Not so certain about our chances now, hm?" Rafael said with a smirk.

"I can be nervous  _and_  certain, you know."

Rafael turned to face him, a smile breaking across his face. "Try not to destroy your lip worrying about me," he said as he pulled Max's lip away from his teeth. Max hadn't even realised he was biting on it, and he let out a breathy laugh.

"I'll try." He sighed. "I hate it when we're apart."

"As do I. It won't be for long, though."

"It better not be. Go there. Kill the mother. Come home. No dawdling."

Rafael grinned. "Yes, Ser."

Max smirked. "And give me a goodbye kiss."

"I should let you take charge more often," Rafael husked before kissing him softly, pushing him back against the wall of their rooms. Max moaned, lost to the feel of those hot soft lips against his. It was a kiss of promises, of hope, of love. But it was over far too soon as Rafael pulled back, leaving Max wanting more. "We will resume that once I return."

Max groaned, resting his head against his lover. "This is going to be a  _really_  long day."

Rafael chuckled breathily. "I will make it up to you tonight."

"Oh, cheers. Now I'm gonna be nervous  _and_  hard all day."

Rafael grinned, kissed him on the nose and then headed for the door. "You coming to see me off, or what?"

"There's an innuendo there somewhere," Max laughed as he joined him at the door, taking his hand.

* * *

 

"Oh Sigrun, for  _shame_ ," Neri said, holding back a snicker.

"Eh, I've had worse," the dwarf replied, smirking. "I could hear you and Anders even over Oghren's grunts."

Neri snorted. "Is that a good or a bad thing?"

"I think it made him try harder, actually. So mostly good."

Neri cackled as they walked down the corridor together.

"So does that mean you're going back for round two?" she asked the little dwarf.

"I… don't know. I guess we'll see if we survive the next few days first."

"You've got it easy; you get to kick back and relax here, while the rest of us traipse around a barren, probably boggy, wasteland trying to kill an ugly talking Broodmother. I know where I'd rather be."

"Yeah, but I'm stuck here with Oghren while he wanders around grinning and muttering 'I still got it, oh  _yeeeah_.'"

Neri snorted. "I've always wondered what dwarves are like  _down there_."

"Pretty much like you'd expect: short, stout, often smelly and bearded."

"Well, that sounds… kinda gross, actually."

Sigrun laughed. "Just as gross as you elves being all hairless, I should think."

"Not a fan of baby soft skin, Sig?"

The dwarf chuckled. "I prefer hard muscle, scars and a thick mane of hair."

"I won't invite you to bed with me and Anders any time soon then," Neri joked as she shoved the doors open to the outside yard and left Sigrun to seek out those waiting at the gate to leave.

Neri had never seen the yard so busy with people all rushing around and preparing for what looked like all-out-war. And of course, at the centre of it all was Arietta, shouting out last minute commands as she prepared to lead their small group out to the lair.

The Commander looked regal, her long chestnut hair tied in a braid that fell down over her shoulder, bound with a bright blue ribbon, her Commander of the Grey helm tucked under one arm, the plate of her armour glistening in the early morning sun. Alistair was close by, the gold of his massive plate armour shining brightly too; his expression was grim, but it softened as he caught sight of Neri approaching.

"G'morning Kingy," Neri greeted him with a grin.

"Morning Slayer," he retorted.

She groaned but then started to smirk again. "So, you joining us?"

His shoulders slumped a little and she gave him a sympathetic smile. "How is it you always seem to miss the big fights?" she asked. "I seem to recall you being trapped inside a vault in Arl Eamon's Denerim estate back when old Archie attacked the city… and now you're gonna slouch around here while we have all the fun with Flabby-Eight-Tits."

He pouted slightly. "Hey, I wasn't trapped in the vault; I fled in there when half the horde came after me."

"Half the horde,  _riiiight_ ," she drawled, smirking.

He mock-glared at her. "And Arietta and I agreed it was best if I stay here."

"More like, she convinced you to stay and you gave in."

"That's not –

"Admit it, you kinda like being bossed about by Arietta," Neri cut him off, grinning.

"No. Well yes, maybe a little," he said, blushing, "but that's not what happened."

"Uh-huh."

He folded his arms. "Just… promise me you'll keep her safe."

"Always."

He nodded. "Thank you."

She knocked her shoulder into his, grinning. "Quit worrying so much; we're going to kill everything, and then we're all going to come back here and drink and fuck. It'll be great!"

His eyes widened at that.

She laughed. "I don't mean like some giant orgy –  _although_ …"

" _Neri_!" he cried, a blush creeping up his neck.

"Right. No. Not that." She frowned slightly, tapping her chin with a finger. "Are you sure? You're very welcome…" she said with a smirk as she gave Alistair a side-long glance.

"I'm sure!"

She sighed. "Fine, fine. Be like that. But we're still having that party. Might need a bath first though. Broodmothers are pretty slimy... but then sex and drink!" She grinned at his exasperated expression. "I expect it to be all set up by the time we're back… Oh, and don't let Oghren drink all the alcohol."

He shook his head, rubbing his temple. "You know, somehow Neri, I don't think planning a  _party_  will be my top priority today."

"I  _suppose_  keeping an eye out for darkspawn can be number one… but the party should definitely be second."

He rolled his eyes and she smirked.

"Really though, stay safe," she said sincerely. "Arietta's gut is telling her the Keep is going to be attacked, and her gut is rarely wrong."

"I know," he said, sounding worried, a frown forming between his brows. "We'll be ready for anything."

" _Anything_?"

His eyes narrowed slightly and his back straightened. "Yes."

A grin stretched across her face. "So, what would you do if a couple of giants started rutting against the front gate?"

"Neri…" He rubbed at his temple, probably trying to wish her and her games away.

"What? It could happen!"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I guess we'd try to chase them off."

"How?"

"I cannot believe you are asking me this right now; no actually, I can, because it's  _you._ "

"It's important, Alistair; do try to take it a  _bit_  more seriously," she deadpanned.

"Right, because giants rutting against our front door are a very real threat here in Amaranthine. You know we don't have giants this side of the Frostbacks, right?"

"Hey, they said dragons were extinct but look how many we've killed. What's stopping giants from coming to Ferelden? They not a fan of the smell of wet dog or something?"

He chuckled. "You'll have to ask if you ever meet one."

"Let's hope I don't." She grinned. "Right, back to the important questions… what would you do if-"

"Neri, are you pestering my husband, again?" Arietta said from behind her.

Neri turned with an impish smile on her face, batting her lashes innocently. "Pestering is  _such_  a strong word."

"Mmhmm," Arietta said, sounding most unimpressed. "I hope you're ready to leave."

"Course I am. I'm a force mage; I can pretty much just roll out of bed and be ready to throw stuff around."

Arietta sighed. "Well, at least you're not in your night gown today."

Neri groaned. "I forgot you wanted me in the yard! And even in my bed clothes I  _still_  won that training match."

"You had one job all week - _one_ : to train the soldiers against magic, and you  _forgot_."

Neri held back a snicker. "Anders is  _really_  distracting!"

Arietta shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips despite her exasperation. "Speaking of Anders, where is he?"

Neri scoffed. "I think he was leaving some more 'schleets' lying around to scare Oghren with. We've been doing it all week… I'm pretty sure Oghren hasn't been able to have a drink since we put one in the store room.  _Poor_  thing," she said with a smirk.

Arietta shook her head. "One of these days I am going to sit you both down and make you play nice."

"We  _are_  playing nice."

Arietta sighed. "Just, go stand by the gate."

Neri huffed but stomped over to the gate anyway.

* * *

 

Finally everyone was in the yard and ready to go. Arietta glanced at them all; at the people she was leaving behind and the Wardens she was bringing with her to this wasteland to face one of her worst nightmares. Max was chewing on his lip, obviously nervous as he fussed over Rafael, Oghren was pestering poor Sigrun; he either had a twitch or he kept winking at her, Arietta couldn't tell which - maybe it was both. Velanna looked annoyed, but that wasn't really anything new; Arietta knew the elf had wanted to come with them so she could look for her sister, but Arietta didn't trust her to simply run off mid-fight if she spotted her. Olivia and Lenny were standing side by side, looking ready for just about anything, and Coline was standing a ways away, arms folded as if this entire thing was boring her. There were others too, of course; her soldiers, all clad in silverite armour – the mine Neri and the others had been trapped in had at least been good for something - and Varel and Maverlies were standing to attention as well.

She had Neri and Alistair on either side of her, Barkspawn and Anders not far away standing with Justice and Nathaniel, all of them looking eager to be done with this whole Broodmother business.

Arietta took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Alright you lot, I'm not going to give some big speech, not today. We're going out to take care of business because that's what Wardens do, and hopefully we'll be back before nightfall."

"For the party," Neri interrupted.

Arietta shot her a glare but then sighed. "Stay alert and do yourselves proud. We will see you all soon."

Varel stepped forward and Arietta shook his hand. "Take care of my Keep, Seneschal," she said with a smile.

"As long as you promise to come back in one piece, Commander."

"Deal," she said with a grin and a nod.

* * *

 

Neri sighed heavily – walking was  _really_  boring, especially when nobody was really talking. She picked up a big stick and Barkspawn started wagging his stumpy tail in excitement. "Go on then, fetch!" she shouted as she lobbed the stick through the air; her hound charged through the grass and disappeared from sight.

She carried on walking, staring up at the cloudy sky, grateful it wasn't all hot and sunny anymore. She smiled up at Anders who returned it and threaded her arm through his.

"Do you remember the songs we used to sing in the evenings in the Tower?" she asked

"Yeah – there was that one about the Templar with the crooked sword. How did that go?"

Neri opened her mouth to start singing but every other Warden turned around and said ' _Don't'_  at the exact same time, making Anders chuckle.

Neri folded her arms and pouted. "You lot are so boring!"

"We have a mission we must complete," Justice droned at her.

"No need to be such a grumpy-pants about it," she muttered back.

"I do not have grumpy pants."

She sighed. "I didn't mean – wait, do you actually wear pants, Justice?"

The Spirit groaned.

"And if you do, do you change them regularly? Do they go in the wash with all of our stuff? Aren't they covered in… rot?"

"Please desist," the spirit pleaded.

"Yes, please do," Rafael growled as he picked up his pace to walk at the front with Arietta.

Neri ignored them. "Or do you just never change out of that armour?"

"It is wise to be prepared for anything; Kristoff was not prepared for a trap and it cost him his life."

" _Right_ , but isn't sleeping in that heavy armour uncomfortable?"

"I do not feel discomfort."

"Hmm," she said as she stared pensively at him.

Justice glanced back at her. "What are you-" He frowned. "Stop whatever it is you are contemplating at once."

Neri tilted her head slightly, watching the spirit curiously. "So… you don't feel discomfort? Do you feel anything at all?"

"I think it may be wise to refrain from answering that," Nathaniel suggested.

"Agreed," Arietta said with a weary smile.

"I do not feel as you feel, no," Justice answered cautiously.

"Well that's interesting!" Neri's said enthusiastically with an innocent smile. "That's all of my questions for now, Justice."

The spirit gave her a small nod and turned back around.

Anders gave her a questioning look but she just smirked back. A few moments later, Neri grabbed a stone and tossed it at the back of the spirit's head, and then quickly looked away, whistling.

Justice turned to face her, scowling. "You there, elf. What was the meaning of that?"

"Hmm?" she asked innocently.

"You tossed a stone at my head."

"Oh, so you felt that then?"

He sighed. "I told you, I can feel, just not as you do-"

Barkspawn took that moment to return and Neri stopped in her tracks to stare down at his stupid face. He dropped a soggy boot at her feet and she crinkled her nose. "What is that?"

He barked.

"I threw a stick."

He wagged his tail.

"This is a soggy boot."

He barked again.

She put a hand on her hip. "What use is a soggy boot to me?"

He whined at her, giving her those damned puppy dog eyes of his.

She groaned. "At least find me a matching pair!"

He let out a happy yap and then bounded off into the field again.

She caught back up with Anders, who gave her a lopsided smile as she threaded her arm back through his. The rest of their group were silent; Rafael had stormed on ahead, clearly determined and probably rather pissed off – he still wasn't a fan of Justice - and Arietta was now chatting quietly to Nathaniel with Justice trailing just behind them.

It was boring.

"We left all the fun people back at the Keep," she sighed.

"Not true. We're both here," Anders replied with a smirk.

"Sounds like you have something specific in mind."

He grinned.

* * *

 

They stopped near a tree, resting under its shade as they took a drink from their canteens, Neri and Anders were laughing, doubled over with tears streaming down their faces, and both Rafael and Nathaniel looked severely unimpressed by whatever it was the two mages were giggling at.

Arietta stared out over the horizon; as far as she could see, the ground was barren, dry, with dead trees and the rubble of old ruins marring the landscape. They were nearing the wastes and the lair. It made her stomach tighten a little; thinking of Broodmothers always made her feel sick, but they would all be a little safer with this Mother dead, so a little discomfort now was worth it for the feeling of relief after.

Arietta turned to look back at her Wardens, realising something was very wrong. Neri and Anders were no longer laughing; Neri had moved away and was glaring at something beyond the treeline with Anders looking very concerned and already drawing his staff. Barkspawn began to growl and all of her Wardens, including herself, drew their weapons.

"Neri?" she asked quietly, stepping forward to stand at the elf's side.

Neri didn't answer, a deep frown on her face, head slightly tilted, like she was listening.

And then Arietta felt it: darkspawn. Her Wardens moved into a line, standing side by side, ready for a fight, but Neri just shook her head. "Your  _friends_  have come to say hello," she muttered, folding her arms across her chest.

Arietta scowled at that, but then four darkspawn came into view and Arietta swallowed; it was the four talking darkspawn she had met on the road. They approached, grinning, hands up in a sign of peace.

Arietta sheathed her daggers and stepped forward. "Why are you here?" she snapped at them.

"We be here to warn you," Dular, the alpha said. "The Mother be attacking your Keep."

Despite expecting it, Arietta's stomach still dropped. "I see," was all she replied.

"Do you?" Herak growled out.

"You must be saving it! The Wardens cannot be being defeated," Dular explained.

"Because then you wouldn't be able to use our blood, right?" Rafael retorted bitterly, his dagger still in his hand.

The emissary, Tethar, laughed loudly. "No, then there be only you five Wardens in all of Ferelden. The dead thing not be counting. That not be good." Justice made a slight huffing sound at the slight but otherwise remained silent.

"And many will die," Shakil, the genlock, added sombrely.

"How many in this army?" Arietta asked.

"Thousands," Dular replied.

Arietta began to pace. She believed her Keep could hold against that, for a time, but knowing they were in danger and ignoring them? Could she do that knowing Alistair and so many others were at the Keep? If something  _did_  happen to any of them, knowing she could have sent people back to help… she wasn't sure she would handle that kind of guilt well.

"The Mother sends her forces underground," Herak added, trying to relay the urgency of the situation.

Arietta scowled, shaking her head. "We've secured the Deep Roads entrances in the surrounding area."

The darkspawn shook its head. "They be knowing another entrance and be at your Keep very soon."

She grit her teeth; for all her careful planning… She sighed and then glanced at Neri, needing to know what the quiet elf was thinking.

"Thoughts?"

"They're not lying," Neri carefully replied, watching the darkspawn with a weary look on her face. "The Architect is close to the lair; that is how he knows her plans." Her jaw twitched as she paused to think. "The Mother still has a lot of darkspawn ready to protect her… but less than we would have faced had she not split her army."

"Less for us to fight, but now more lives are in danger because of it," Arietta sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"The Keep will hold," Nathaniel pointed out. "The Mother should be our priority; crush her and we crush her darkspawn, send them running back to the Deep Roads."

"We can't ignore the army at our doorstep, though," Arietta said with a sigh. "That is  _a lot_  of darkspawn; many lives will be lost with them all roaming across the surface."

"And we don't know for sure that these darkspawn  _will_  go back to the Deep Roads once the Mother is killed," Rafael pointed out. "If some are sentient, they could lead the army elsewhere… They need to be destroyed."

They were all quiet a moment, but slowly one by one, Arietta realised people were looking to Neri. She seemed to realise it as well.

"Say the word," Neri said quietly. "And I'll go back."

Arietta glanced at her. "I told you I didn't want you using-"

"I won't. Not unless I have to. Even with just my force magic, I am still your best bet at hitting that army hard up the arse." There was a tiny smirk at her lips; if there was one thing Neri was good at, it was killing darkspawn. They all knew it, but Arietta still wasn't sure if it was the right, or the wise, thing to do.

"Neri, you can't take on an entire army alone!" Anders cried out.

"She won't be alone. I'll go back with her," Rafael said softly. "I can't fight the Mother knowing Max is in real danger," he added, explaining.

"You and your little dagger will help her fight an entire army? That's not going to end badly  _at all_ ," Anders droned. Despite his sarcasm Arietta could tell he was terrified of losing Neri.

"I only meant I would watch her back," Rafael snapped. "Stop anything getting near her while she casts."

"I  _have_  faced an army several times before and survived, you know," Neri interrupted, eyebrow arched.

"That doesn't make this any less dangerous!"

"We be going too!" Tethar shouted joyfully, pointing at himself and Dular. The alpha stepped forward a big grin on its face as it nodded.

They all looked at the darkspawn completely dumbfounded.

"Shakil and I be accompanying you to the lair, Commander," Herak explained.

"We be helping!" Shakil agreed happily.

Arietta looked to Neri but the elf just shrugged, looking utterly confused. "Don't look at me; you're the one who befriended them."

"I didn't  _befriend_  them," Arietta hissed back as she pulled Neri further away from the darkspawn to talk to her.

Neri smiled. "Feed a stray and they'll keep coming back."

"I didn't feed them!"

"Just saying," Neri replied, as she casually leant back against the tree.

"Oh and you would have killed them, would you?" Arietta asked as she came to a stop in front of the elf.

"A sprained wrist doesn't stop me fighting, so maybe," Neri replied with a slight smirk.

"But do you trust them now?" Arietta asked quietly.

Neri dragged her boots along the dirt ground, drawing her lip between her teeth. "Trust might be a strong word… but they aren't planning to kill us and seems like we could use the help."

Arietta sighed and turned back to the darkspawn who were waiting patiently, grinning in that creepy way that they always did. If they were really doing this, splitting up, then Neri was right, they could use their assistance. "Fine, you can help." The darkspawn cheered in response, hitting their armour, making it clatter loudly.

Arietta then turned back to Neri, dragging her around the back of the tree to continue their private conversation. "If we're really doing this, going our separate ways here, then I need to know something."

Neri's eyes closed briefly as she lowered her head with a long drawn out breath. "You need my vote," she mumbled.

Arietta nodded. Neri still hadn't told Arietta where she fell in regards to the Architect and Arietta didn't want to face the emissary without knowing how her friend felt.

Neri glanced back up at her, brown eyes uncertain. "I still don't know, Ari."

"I  _need_  you to know."

"I trust you." Neri shrugged. "That's my vote. Whatever you think, I will agree with; your gut is rarely wrong."

Arietta's breath left her in an irritated rush. "I still don't know what my gut thinks." She looked out at the horizon, frustrated.

Neri moved to stand in front of her, long elvhen fingers coming to grip both of Arietta's arms. "You will," she said firmly up to her. "Maybe it'll be as we walk away from one another, maybe it'll be as you enter the lair or as you talk to him. But you will, and I will have your back either way."

"You really don't have an opinion other than that?"

Neri gave a slight shake of her head. "I don't trust the Architect. Just as I don't trust these talking darkspawn, but we're using them, working with them. Is he so different? The risk is bigger, but the benefits could be huge. But then I remember being dragged away, the fear of being turned into a Broodmother and I just want to rip him in two. So no, I don't know where I stand. Sorry."

Arietta nodded. "I need Anders to stay with me. I need a mage."

"I know."

"You're okay with that?"

"No. But you'll keep him safe and I'll go save Alistair's stupid ass from a darkspawn army, seems fair, yeah?"

Arietta smiled. "His ass isn't stupid."

"My apologies," Neri said with a grin.

"So this is it then," Arietta said looking at Neri with a nervous shake of her head. "The last time we split up like this was during the Blight. You to kill the Archdemon and me to rescue Alistair."

"Now you're ending this mini-Blight and I'm saving your husband."

"You're still fighting the bigger army though."

"Maybe." A smile curved her lips. "We'll have to compare kill counts when we meet back up."

Arietta smiled too. "How many darkspawn does a Broothmother equal?"

"Depends how many tits she has, be sure to count them all."

"Ugh, Neri."

She snickered in reply. "Be careful though. The Mother sent that army to the Keep as a direct result of us coming to kill her."

"In other words, she knows we're coming for her," Arietta finished.

"Yeah, and her army probably expects you to send people back to the Keep too. This could turn into a shitstorm real fast."

"We survived the Blight; we'll get through this."

Neri grinned. "I agree completely. And I'll have that party ready for when you get back."

Arietta rolled her eyes and then pulled Neri in for a hug. "You better." Neri squeezed her back, her breath hot against Arietta's neck.

They pulled back, smiling slightly before walking back over to the others. "Alright, we're splitting up. Everybody say their goodbyes."

Neri dragged Anders away, shoving him against the tree so that she could give him a  _proper_  goodbye. When they parted they were both breathless, his hands gripping her hips tightly and her hands clinging to his robes.

"I'll save you a seat at the table," she whispered with a smile.

"Please be careful," he said in a rush. "I only just got you back. I  _can't_  lose you again."

She frowned a little. "You never lost me."

"It was as good as. You left the Tower, went to fight an army of darkspawn, decided you were going to stop a Blight, kill an  _Archdemon_. I thought for sure you would die but there was nothing I could do. And there's nothing I can do now, either, is there?"

She cupped his cheek. "You can survive; that's what I intend to do."

He nodded and kissed the top of her head. "We will more than survive. We'll  _live_."

"Go anywhere and everywhere?" she asked quietly, her eyes bright and happy.

He nodded. "Yes."

She grinned and kissed him again. "You just need to kill the Mother and rush home and I just need to deal with all the pesky darkspawn and go pack our bags.  _Easy_ ," she laughed.

"Easy," he agreed, smiling broadly.

 

 


	48. Off To A Great Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ElyssaCousland, thank you for betaing for me all this time. <3

Neri watched Anders and the others walk away from her, down the hill, until they disappeared from sight. She took one final look at the wastes that stretched out before her, shrouded in darkness, like even the sun was afraid to touch that desolate place, and then she turned around, walking back the way they came, with the sun warming her skin.

She didn't want to leave Anders' side, not after he'd been burned alive the last time he'd stepped into a Broodmother lair, but she figured the chances of their being  _another_  inferno golem were pretty slim.

Rafael gave her a small nod, no doubt knowing how hard it was to have to leave your lover behind. And then they began the long walk back toward the Keep, walking in the dusty footprints of the steps they had taken when heading out to the lair. Their two darkspawn companions stepped in behind them, following them without question, and Barkspawn bounded along quite happily at her side, unfazed by the darkspawn trailing them.

One of the darkspawn tapped her on the shoulder and she turned, frowning, to look at it. The emissary grinned at her and she arched an inquisitive brow. "Yeah?"

"I be Tethar, Fire Bringer, Blood of Surana!" it boomed at her.

Neri's eyes widened slightly. "Uhhh, okay," she said awkwardly, before turning back around to carry on walking.

The darkspawn shuffled to her side, frowning. "You not be introducing yourself like that?" it asked, clearly puzzled by her lack of a reaction.

She shrugged, glancing at it. "Not really."

The darkspawn grunted slightly and then stared ahead as it walked beside her. It was at least a head taller than her, its bald, mottled skin covered by a thick black hood, lined with a red trim that fell just over its forehead, coming to a point above its nose. The darkspawn's robes were a mix of dark grey steel, blackened chainmail and more of the thick dark fabric. Its robes nearly touched the ground, ragged and torn at the edges, with big heavy boots and guards protecting its long legs; the only other dash of colour was the red scarf tied around its neck.

The emissary walked like a human would, just as Arietta had said they did. And its gauntleted hands held on to its long and gnarled staff, using it as a walking stick. Its face was just as gruesome as any other darkspawn's though. Dark skin, tainted and ridged; no lips covering its razor sharp teeth, no nose, just two black nostrils; its eyes however were black, instead of the usual white of other darkspawn.

If this was any other creature, she would be throwing questions at it, trying to learn more – just like she had done with Justice – but this creature was made with  _her_  blood, and that freaked her the fuck out. But she forced herself to at least  _try_  to converse with the strange darkspawn.

"Most people just call me Neri," she said softly, offering the emissary a smile.

Tethar lifted its head, a lethal looking grin spreading across its face. "It be very nice meeting you," it said in what she assumed was an earnest reply.

"And… you," she forced out.

"Ha! You be regretting that soon," the hurlock alpha said with a big booming laugh, stepping forward until she had a darkspawn either side of her, making her suddenly feel very small. She looked up at the massive hurlock who was giving her a big grin and smiled weakly at it. "You soon be wanting to hit his stupid face like the rest of us."

"Do not be tempting me to be setting you on fire again, brother," Tethar shot back.

The alpha wasn't hooded like Tethar; instead it had one of those horned helmets on that covered a good portion of its face, leaving just its mouth, eyes and chin visible. Where Tethar's skin was a dark grey, the alpha's was a light brown, and its eyes were a blackish brown colour. Its skin looked rougher and harder than Tethar's, not that she was planning on stroking either of them to find out any time soon. The rest of the alpha was all muscle and thick spiked armour the colour of ash, and there was a massive two handed axe strapped to its back. She gulped slightly as she saw how large its hands were, and pictured just how easy it would be for this creature to wrap a hand around her neck and strangle her.

Barkspawn barked, wagging his tail, and she glanced down at him, smiling. "I think he likes you," she told the darkspawn.

"What be this?" the alpha asked as it tilted its head, watching her hound.

"This is Barkspawn, my mabari warhound," she explained.

"B-a-r-k-s-p-a-w-n?" the alpha repeated slowly. "Like darkspawn."

Barkspawn barked again, jumping around happily, his paws kicking up dust in his excitement.

"Yes. Like darkspawn," she said, amused.

"Greetings, Barkspawn, I be Dular, Head Splitter, Blood of Surana!"

Barkspawn whined in response, obviously upset by the blood of Surana part, and the alpha frowned. "It not be understanding me?" it questioned.

Neri opened her mouth to explain, but the emissary beat her to it. "You should be trying its own language, Dular," Tethar suggested, and Neri was certain the emissary was smirking, and when she arched a brow up at it, the emissary winked, surprising her.

"You be right!" Dular announced. "Bark!" it shouted down at her hound. "Bark, bark, bark!"

Her hound barked back, spinning in circles, clearly pleased, and Dular let out a hearty 'har' as it slapped Neri hard on the back, nearly knocking her to the ground. "I be speaking warhound!" it cheered, grinning proudly.

"And what be the hound saying?" Tethar asked with a wicked grin.

"He be saying  _bark_ , of course. You be needing to clean your ears, brother!" Dular laughed before carrying on 'talking' to her hound. Neri glanced at the snickering emissary at her side with a smile. She had to admit, Arietta was right – they really were very humanlike, scarily so. And that thought sent a shiver through her.

Tethar stopped snickering, a frown forming across its brow instead, perhaps picking up on her uneasiness. "You not be liking me, Mother?" it asked quietly.

She shuddered. There were far too many very unpleasant connotations with the word  _mother_ , too many horrible images surfacing in her mind. "Don't call me that."

The emissary tilted its head, frown deepening. "Why?"

"Because I am not your mother!" she snapped, her voice louder than she had intended it, so loud it drew the attention of their other companions, who all looked at her, confused by her outburst. She clenched her jaw.

"We be of your blood," Tethar reasoned.

"It isn't the same thing," she argued back.

"No?"

"No."

"I not be understanding."

"So go read a book or something."

"We not be knowing how to read your language either," Tethar said quietly.

She sighed. "Look. I didn't give birth to you – thank the Maker-"

"Ha! Told you she not be liking your ugly face," Dular retorted, laughing at his darkspawn brethren.

"Better be birthing me than trying to push out your big head!" Tethar shot back.

She rubbed her forehead. "Point, missing it."

"Not be missing point!" Dular protested, pulling his axe from his back, making Neri tense. "Blade be very sharp!  _See_!" it said as it shoved its axe toward Neri's face.

She stumbled backward, hands raised. "Yes, wonderful," she snarked. "Now get your axe out of my face," she grumbled. Dular's shoulders slumped and it pulled the axe back. "I meant, I didn't give  _birth_  to you, therefore you are not my children," she explained. "My blood altered you, is all. Just as some random dead darkspawn's blood altered  _me_  - I don't go around calling them mummy and daddy."

The emissary and the alpha frowned at her. "But we be existing because of you. Without you, we be like the others, we be knowing only the Call, always digging," Tethar explained.

"Parents be shaping you, no?" Dular asked. "Just as you be shaping us."

"It's not – that's not the same," Neri tried to reason, frowning.

She groaned and looked at Rafael pleadingly; the bastard actually smirked at her. "I think they have a good point," he teased.

"Fuck you, Raf," she replied, totally exasperated.

"So, we be calling you Mother?" Tethar asked excitedly, his face lighting up.

She shook her head sighing; she was never going to win this fight – it was like trying to argue with a stubborn toddler. "Call me whatever you want," she conceded.

Both of the darkspawn grinned at her and Tethar smacked her on the back; a hit so hard the air was forced out of her lungs. She gasped for breath, hunched over and glared up at him. "Agh, not so hard, I'm only little!" she choked out.

Tethar at least had the decency to look like a scolded child might, head bowed, avoiding eye contact. "I be sorry, I not be meaning harm on you," it said softly.

She felt guilt twist in her gut and she clenched her fists. This was a darkspawn, for fuck's sake – why was she feeling bad for it? Tethar glanced at her, actually giving her the darkspawn equivalent of puppy dog eyes and she sighed.

"It's fine. You're forgiven, Tethar," she said quietly, and then very reluctantly she reached out and squeezed the darkspawn's shoulder in a gesture she hoped he would see as reassurance. Tethar grinned and then grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug, squeezing the breath out of her lungs yet again. She wheezed, struggling as the darkspawn lifted her into the air, practically crushing her.

_Yep. Hugged to death by a darkspawn, that's how the Slayer of the Archdemon will die._

But just as she thought she might pass out the darkspawn plopped her back to the ground and she sucked in a lungful of air. The emissary just loomed over her grinning.

"I forgive you for hitting me so you try to squeeze me to death instead?" she snarked up at him.

The darkspawn snorted. "You be very fragile."

"She be cute, like a Deepstalker," Dular agreed. "All spindly like them too"

Neri frowned up at them and could hear Rafael snickering quietly to her side again. "You're lucky I don't spit venom like they do," she growled as she straightened her armour. "Now, if we are quite done dawdling, we have a keep to save."

She marched down the path, Barkspawn at her heel, walking past Rafael, ignoring him entirely as he tried to hide his smile.

"That be a very tiny blade," Dular commented, and Neri knew she was talking about Rafael's dagger.

"It's a dagger," Rafael replied in a growl.

"What good be something so small?" Neri looked over her shoulder as Dular stroked his giant axe. "You be needing a blade like this to be doing killing with."

"My dagger is just as good as your axe for it, trust me," Rafael practically snarled, making Neri snicker.

"Bigger always be better," Dular said with a hearty laugh.

"Yeah, well, maybe you're just overcompensating for something," Rafael retorted.

Dular frowned. "What you be meaning by overcompensating?"

"I mean, maybe you need an axe that big because you're small  _elsewhere_."

Dular's frown deepened. "Do I be looking small to you, little knife? I be two heads taller than you!" it boomed, clearly missing the meaning of Rafael's comments. It was the rogue's turn to look at her pleadingly and she just laughed and turned back around.

It was going to be a long journey back to the Keep, but at least it would be entertaining.

…

Arietta walked ahead of her companions. The path they were walking on was shrouded in darkness, the air cold with no direct sunlight reaching it. She had memorised the Architect's map, so she knew where things were supposed to be, and so far his map had been right. The other paths had all looked far too dangerous to use, just as his map had warned. But she still feared a trap, and so she kept Nathaniel at the back of their group, bow at the ready should anything – the two darkspawn travelling with them included – attack.

"So, this… blood of Surana thing," Anders said casually as he walked alongside the two darkspawn.

"Mm. What of it?" Herak asked, sort of grunted actually, the shiny metal of its armour clinking loudly as it rolled its shoulders.

"Why do you keep saying it?"

"It be important – we be changed, freed from the Call because of the Mother's blood."

" _Mother?"_  Anders nearly choked. Neri was  _not_  going to like hearing  _that_.

"Surana be our mother, yes."

"No, she  _really_  isn't."

Herak frowned. "Yes. She be the reason we be like this."

"She didn't have a choice in making you like that though."

"You be suggesting that all your mothers be having a choice too?"

"Well – I  _suppose_  that's true, but still, she didn't give birth to any of you."

"We still be of the same blood," Herak said adamantly.

Anders sighed. Clearly there was no point trying to argue with these creatures. He glanced up at the tall hurlock, at the milky white colour of its skin and the reddish black eyes that were sunken deep into blackened sockets.

"You definitely got your father's looks," Anders muttered.

Herak burst out laughing at that, a rasping cackle that made the hair at Anders' neck stand on end. "Can you be imagining darkspawn with hair?" The darkspawn continued to cackle and Anders found himself chuckling softly.

"Just so long as you don't start wearing dresses and high heels…"

Herak snorted. "I be promising you, mage, this one not be dressing up any time soon." The darkspawn glanced over its shoulder at its brethren who had stopped to pick up a mushroom. "Can't be saying the same for that one though."

Anders snickered. "Alright, so if you see Neri as your mother… does that mean you would protect her from harm?"

Herak glanced down at him, tilting its head. "If she be needing it, yes."

"Blood be important," Shakil, the archer, agreed, running to catch back up with them, now holding several spotted mushrooms in its hands.

Arietta turned to face the two darkspawn. "And what of the Architect? If he wanted to harm Neri – your  _mother_  – would you fight him in order to keep her safe?"

"You be asking if we would kill the father to protect the mother," Herak stated carefully.

"Yes."

A deep rumbling growl rolled out of Herak's throat, and the creature shook its head in annoyance. "Would you be killing one of your parents so easily?"

"If one of them was in the wrong… then, yes," Arietta said quietly.

"The Architect be having good intentions though," Shakil pointed out.

"He be doing what is best for all," Herak said. "It not be so easy to be picking sides."

"Will it come to that?" Anders asked. "Is the Architect planning on harming her?"

"No," both darkspawn said in unison. Arietta shared a look with Anders before sighing and turning back around to continue walking. It was a relief that the darkspawn seemed to want to protect Neri and that both seemed to think that the Architect didn't want to harm her, but that was assuming that such creatures could be believed –  _trusted_. She still wasn't sure how she felt about them.

Nathaniel's fingers tightened around his bow as the genlock came toward him, apparently deciding it wanted to walk with him now. The genlock archer looked quite different from its ilk, its skin a creamy brown instead of the ghastly off-white of the one called Herak. Shakil also had a blue sash around its waist and daisy chains decorated much of its armour, which made it look… less threatening, but maybe that was on purpose, a ploy to make him drop his guard.

"You be having many arrows," it said to him.

"That's correct," Nathaniel replied –  _lots to put in you, should you attack_ , he thought darkly.

"You be good with a bow too?"

"Yes."

"I be good too," Shakil said with a deep chuckle. "Never be making my own arrows until now though."

"And that's because of… your new found intelligence?" he asked it.

"Perhaps," the archer responded. "Before there only be the Call. Arrows be a tool to us then, never be caring about making them. Now they be more –  _we_  be more."

"Arrows are more now?" Nathaniel asked, a frown marring his brow.

"They be a thing of beauty," Shakil explained.

"I… suppose that's true," he admitted, not expecting a darkspawn of all things to ever see beauty in craftsmanship such as that. "What else do you find beautiful then?" he asked as they continued walking down the dusty barren path.

"Much!" Shakil responded eagerly. "Be liking the warmth of the sun. Never be feeling it much in the Deep Roads. And the pretty flowers that be growing in fields. They smell good."

Herak laughed loudly ahead of them, turning to look at its darkspawn brother. "You be almost as soft as these humans."

"You not be seeing the beauty in it all?" Shakil asked, frowning.

"There only be beauty in the killing of the Mother," Herak huffed. Nathaniel couldn't help but think that that was much more of a darkspawn response.

"You be wrong, be needing to use your eyes more," Shakil shot back petulantly.

"I be seeing dirt and dead things all around us – you be thinking this shit beautiful? Maybe it be you needing to use your eyes more."

Justice turned around then. "Your archer is not wrong; there is much beauty in this world."

"Says the dead thing," Herak snorted.

"Why does my inhabiting a corpse stop me from seeing beauty in this world?"

"It just be funny when you be the ugliest thing here," Herak replied.

"It was not my choice to inhabit this body, but I am here, as you are, to help; to end the threat that is the Mother. It matters not what we look like or where we come from."

Herak grunted in response, rolling its eyes.

"Sorry to break it to you all, but none of you are very beautiful," Anders said with a wrinkled nose.

"Ha! You be hurting my new-found feelings with your words, mage," Herak laughed.

Anders smiled. "Are you going to start crying now?"

"Darkspawn not be crying."

"Right, because you're  _so_  strong and tough."

"No – well yes, we be that too- but no, we be having no parts to cry with."

"Oh, well, that's… good; I'm not sure what I'd do with a sobbing darkspawn."

"Probably be handing me a kerchief like you be doing with others of your race that cry."

Anders laughed. "Sounds about right."

"We be having many anatomical differences to your kind – I be researching them. Learning much." Herak grinned downed at Anders. "You be wanting to hear?"

Anders gulped, not really wanting to know just  _how_  the darkspawn was researching such things. "Uhh, no. I think I'll pass."

"Eh, your loss human."

"Yes,  _such_  loss," Anders retorted.

They all came to a stop as they valley opened out before them, a wasteland full of bones and crumbling ruins.

"I guess this is the place," Arietta whispered softly.

Anders stared up at the massive archway made of bone that curved over the path in front of them. "What a charming entranceway," he drawled.

"We be near now," Herak informed them as it stepped forward first, heading under the arch. "You be wanting to avoid the dragon?" it asked over its shoulder.

"No actually, we fancied getting roasted alive today," Anders shot back.

Arietta sighed. "Yes. We want to avoid the dragon."

"Then be following me, the path the Architect put on the map be up here."

Arietta steeled herself and then followed the darkspawn, hoping to the Maker that she wasn't being led into a trap.

…

Maxime's palms were sweating,  _a lot_ , which was really rather gross; he kept wiping them on his robes like some nervous apprentice about to undergo their Harrowing. He wasn't usually one for getting nervous, but then again, in his meagre three years as a Warden, he hadn't ever seen an army quite this large. They'd had ample warning, thanks to their patrols, but still – how did anybody prepare for something like  _this?_

It had begun as just a hazy black line on the horizon, the distant sound of drumming echoing across the valley, and slowly but surely, that line had extended into never ending sea of black, completely surrounding the Keep. Max could hear the drumming more clearly now, the sounds of them banging their swords on shields, of them stomping their feet. It was to incite fear, and it was bloody well working.

Max glanced at his comrades also standing atop the outer wall. He was with the forward archers and Sergeant Maverlies, standing over the right hand side of the main gate. The first line of defence, essentially. Many of the men up here were in charge of the ballista, the barrels and the short bows. As for Max, he was simply up here with Velanna to set shit on fire.

But he could see how nervous the archers and other soldiers looked, many of them sweating, hands shaking as they waited for the inevitable charge of darkspawn. Max recognised a few of them from his lessons with Neri; he sighed.  _Neri_. What he would give to have that elf here now. Even her force magic would be a blessing, and her blood magic? Well that would damn well win them this fight before it had even begun. But she wasn't here. They had to hold against this army on their own. Despite the Keep's defences though, he wasn't sure if they'd actually be able to stop a force as big as the one they were facing now. But they would damn well try.

That steadily increasing drumbeat suddenly stopped, and for the briefest of moments, there was total silence. Max held his breath, waiting. And then the darkspawn roared, and charged. Max's breath left him in a rush as he clutched onto his staff for dear life, a spell already on his lips. He wanted to bolt, to run away as the tsunami of darkspawn surged toward the Keep's walls, but he held firm – maybe he was too frozen with fear to actually run anyway, he wasn't sure.

The drumming from a few moments ago was nothing compared to the stampeding army charging toward them, but of all the things to focus on now, it was the sky that Max found himself looking at. Slowly, the blue sky and early afternoon sun were being blocked out by the dust the running darkspawn were kicking up, gradually plunging the entire battlefield into darkness.

"Longbows!" Maverlies screamed, lifting her arm into the air to signal the archers on the inner walls.

Max looked over his shoulder just in time to see Coline throw her arm down over on the inner wall, a cry on her lips. Then arrows were whizzing through the air in a long arc, the trail of orange flames lighting up the darkened sky. Max followed the arc, watching as the arrows hit home, many finding their marks, toppling darkspawn hard into the mud. But more surged forward, replacing the fallen ones.

He checked back over his shoulder, this time looking into the yard below at the small army gathered around Olivia and Lenny. The two Wardens were mounted on big chargers, the only two war horses the Keep had managed to acquire in time for the attack. The rest of the men were armed in bright silverite armour – one of the few good things to come out of that damned mine in the Wending Woods – swords at the ready as they waited behind the gate, should the defences fail. The plan was for Olivia and Lenny to break the horde as it surged through the gates and then for her soldiers to hold it for as long as possible to reduce the amount of darkspawn getting into the outer yard. It would also give Max and everyone else time to retreat back to the inner yard.

"I hope you're ready, shem," Velanna shouted from the other side of the gate at him, a smug smile on her face.

He shot her a grin, his hands already glowing. "I'm always ready!"

His breath hitched though when he turned back to look at the army, realising just how  _close_  they were now. He braced, holding onto the wall as the darkspawn broke against it, making the entire thing shudder. He could hear the gate straining, creaking and groaning from the sheer size of the force that had crashed into it. But then instinct took over, forcing the panic down as adrenaline surged through him.

Arrows were already firing from either side of him, Maverlies screaming at her men to release the barrels as well, obliterating more of the monsters below. And Max stepped forward, finally unleashing his first fire ball on the beasts. He dropped eight, flames licking at their tainted bodies, strangled screams on their lips.

"That was for Ella!" he roared before unleashing another fireball at the darkspawn near the gate, incinerating them. "And Esteban!" He sent another to his right, watching as it exploded violently, scattering a large group of darkspawn. "For Lucy, Adel, Jaque and Keenan!" he shouted, flinging spell after spell at the horde. "For Angus and Edd! And Durak and Urin!" He unleashed a wall of fire in front of the gate, briefly stopping the darkspawn from advancing. "For Terry, Tomm and Tamsin! And yes, even Joshua!" he screamed as more fire rained down from his fingertips to obliterate the creatures that would try to harm yet more of his friends – his  _family_.

"For Gable!" Maverlies screamed as she fired arrow after arrow into the horde.

More cries went out, soldiers calling out the names of their fallen brothers in arms. But there were so many and Max was already out of breath. The shouting probably hadn't helped with that, though.

"Not bad for a shem," Velanna taunted with a smirk. "My fireballs are still bigger than yours though."

A laugh left his lips, shocking him at how good it felt to laugh despite the dire situation. "It's not about size, but how you use it!" he yelled back.

The elf's eyes widened momentarily before she caught sight of something below. "Then use it to stop them from breaking the gate!"

Several groups of darkspawn were advancing with shields over their heads and sides, some kind of turtle formation, and they were all heading for the gate.

"Merde," he muttered.

"Ballista!" Maverlies ordered desperately. "Break those fucking shields!"

They managed to take out one of the darkspawn shield formations, but more were constantly moving forward, and soon one such group reached the gate despite their best efforts to halt its movements. The huge iron-headed tree trunk that the darkspawn were using as a ram slammed into the gate with such force that it made Max's teeth chatter. Over and over it slammed into the reinforced wood of the gate, making it creak and groan. Max flung fire and ice at the darkspawn but any he killed were quickly replaced by more, picking up the ram to continue pounding at the gate.

"It's not going to last much longer," Maverlies breathed out in a rush next to him. He nodded worriedly.

"Have your men ready to retreat." She nodded and marched down the wall, yelling out orders. Maxime turned, looking down at Olivia who was staring at the gate with a frown on her face. She noticed him and looked up; he gave her the signal to get ready and she gave him a grim nod. He didn't like this plan, this suicide mission as far as he was concerned, but Olivia had been adamant that it was necessary, and seeing as she was in charge… he sighed, firing more fireballs into the horde. If this was really happening, if the gate was really coming down, then he would at least give everyone a little more time to prepare.

…

Olivia sat atop her charger, her fingers clutching the reigns tightly. Thunder was the horse's name, and she hoped he would prove a storm on the battlefield. Lenny was at her side, sitting nervously on his own mount, a great chestnut destrier called River.

She nodded at her husband and he gave her a small smile back. She hadn't wanted him to do this job with her; it was high risk, but there was no changing his mind. They were in this together. Always together. And there was nobody she trusted to have at her side more than him.

Both of their gazes were pulled back to the splintering gate as yet another blow from the ram slammed into it. It would be their jobs to lead the charge forward once that gate gave in; trying to break the horde as it surged in, reducing the amount of darkspawn that got into the outer yard. The inner gate was weaker, so it was imperative that Olivia and her men hold this gate and control the flow of darkspawn getting past them. But they all knew their odds of survival weren't great; it was why she had only accepted volunteers for the job, and why they were all so nervous.

She flinched as the ram slammed into the gate once more, the sickening crunch of splintering wood and buckling hinges making her stomach twist. She reached out for Lenny's hand, and he took it, gripping hers tightly. "I love you," she told him firmly.

"I love you t-too," he replied back, voice trembling. Of all the terrifying things she would face today, the thought of losing Lenny was the scariest by far; she didn't want to picture a life where he didn't exist – she had seen that once before the last time darkspawn had attacked- but they weren't separated by a barrier this time, they would stay together, would survive this together. She squeezed his hand and then reluctantly let it go as she turned her horse around to face the men that had volunteered to fight at her side.

"Brave men and women!" she shouted, ignoring the screaming darkspawn behind her. "Today we fight! We defend. We do not back down! Not until every one of the blighted bastards lies dead at  _our_  feet!" she roared, and her men responded with their own roars of agreement.

She drew her sword, putting down her visor on her helm and turned her mount to face the gate just as it exploded in a flurry of splinters and dust. The darkspawn rushed in, and she kicked her mount into motion, screaming as she charged through their ranks, her sword slicing through them, scattering the monsters so that her foot soldiers could finish them off.

Thunder charged through the horde, with River and Lenny at her side, both of them keeping close to the gate as they continued to hack away at the monsters; the darkspawn seemed to fear their horses, staying back for the time being so they both had room to manoeuvre.

She smiled at her husband through her helm, lifting her sword to him before she brought it down on a darkspawn; he dipped his head back as slipped his blade across the neck of a hurlock. Fire rained down from above, Max and Velanna were still on the walls, helping her men defend the broken gate before they would be forced to retreat to the inner yard where the others waited. She wasn't sure if it was one of the spells, or something else, but when she looked to Lenny next, he was gone from her side, she panicked for a moment, until she saw him further into the horde, but her relief of seeing him alive did not last long.

His horse had obviously panicked, and was still panicking, and it meant he was struggling to keep the darkspawn back even as he hacked viciously at them. She didn't think, she simply reacted, urging Thunder forward, needing to reach him, to help him.

Olivia hacked and slashed at the darkspawn trying to close in on her, keeping her shield on her arm, deflecting any incoming blows, but it wasn't enough; Lenny was still too far. She kept losing sight of him through the horde, making her heart pound in her chest. She couldn't lose him – she  _couldn't._

Her horse suddenly let out a gargled scream, his entire body shuddering. In a blur of movement she was thrown sideways, the entire battlefield shifting on its axis. The next thing she knew she was hitting the ground hard, her horse landing on top of her leg, her own screams joining his.

She struggled to free herself from under him, her vision whiting out as pain flared up her leg. Thunder's screams finally stopped and the darkspawn began to move in; she cursed, grabbing her sword to swipe at them, trying to ward them off of her as she tried yet again to free her leg. A hurlock got in close, lifting its blade above its head, ready to end her, and her breath hitched. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to watch that blood soaked blade fall toward her, her only thoughts of how she had failed Lenny; failed to reach him, failed to stay alive for him.

But the blow never came. She opened her eyes just in time to see a sword cleave straight through the hurlock and for a brief second she thought it was Lenny, come to rescue her instead of the other way around, but no, it was her men, her volunteer soldiers. They cut down the darkspawn nearest to her, and then gathered around her.

"On three," one of them ordered.

She grit her teeth but it couldn't stifle the scream on her lips as they lifted the horse off of her and then dragged her backwards.

She hissed in pain as they pulled her to her feet, her eyes already scanning the horde for Lenny, but she couldn't see him, couldn't see his horse, couldn't see any sign of him. She clung to one of her men, her leg throbbing painfully; she couldn't tell if it was broken or not, but it didn't matter while Lenny wasn't at her side. Her men started to steer her back toward the gate but she pushed them, eyes still searching, a cry leaving her lips as she put too much weight on her bad leg. One of her soldiers caught her, grabbing her arm roughly, trying again to get her back to the relative safety of the gate.

"I have to find Lenny," she screamed at him, looking briefly into the eyes of the helmed solider that had grabbed her.

He shook his head. "We can't," he said, voice breaking a little. "We  _have_  to hold the gate."

"I can't leave him!" she wailed, shoving the soldier hard.

He grabbed her again as she stumbled, pulling her to his chest. "We do not back down," he hissed in her face, echoing her earlier words, words said when Lenny was at her side.

"The darkspawn are getting into the yard – we  _must_  go back!" another urged.

"I can't-" she sobbed out.

"I'm sorry, but you must," the soldier holding her said.

Reluctantly, she allowed them to escort her back to the gate, her eyes never leaving the battlefield, scouring the horizon for Lenny. Those horrible images flooded her mind, images of a life without him, of being alone, of never seeing the way that shy man's face lit up whenever she entered the room, of a world where she couldn't snuggle up with him in the evenings by the fire as he told her stories of old elven lore…

She would have collapsed to the ground if it weren't for the soldier holding her up. He got her to the gate, somehow. He shoved a health potion to her mouth, told her to drink. It helped with the pain in her leg, but not the one in her heart. A hand pulled her head away from the battle to stare into sad grey eyes.

"You have to fight, Olivia," he urged. "If Lenny yet lives, you  _must_  fight to see him again!"

She clenched her jaw; he was right. She couldn't lose hope. Her men were counting on her, the entire Keep was; already too many darkspawn had gotten past them. No more; no matter what, they would hold the gate. And then she would find Lenny.


	49. Bloody Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Writing battle sequences is bloody hard, just so you know.

Coline just had time to order her men to get down before the fiery projectile crashed into the wall, exploding with a deafening bang, sending rock and debris scattering across the platform she had stationed her archers on. She cursed as she got back to her feet to glance over the wall into the outer yard. She had thought it bad enough that darkspawn had swarmed in through the gate, but now they were using the Keep's own ballista against them.

She turned quickly, a warning on her lips meant for the men in the yard below, but it never reached them. The gate exploded as a ballista round slammed into it, throwing soldiers backwards in a fiery and splintery blast.

Coline cursed again and then whirled back around.

"Archers!" she screamed, needing all of them to cover the dazed men in the yard, her own bow already loosing arrow after arrow into the darkspawn –ogres included- now charging freely into the inner yard.

She was thrown forward as another ballista round slammed into the wall behind her and she cursed again. They weren't going to be able to cover anybody in the yard with the damned darkspawn firing at them like this.

"Fuck it," she hissed, as she grabbed a grappling hook. "Stay down! Only fire while the darkspawn are reloading," she ordered.

Coline attached the hook to the wall and then jumped over the edge, sliding down the rope to land on the ground with a roll. She swung her bow from her back, nocking an arrow and letting fly as she raced down through the, thankfully very empty, outer yard.

She caught sight of Olivia at the gate, limping heavily but fighting on valiantly regardless with her men; Coline couldn't see Lenny but she didn't have time to think about that as she rolled to the side, avoiding the arrows of the darkspawn near the ballista. As she came out of her roll, she sent an arrow at one of their archers, hitting him and knocking the smug smile right off of the genlock's ugly face.

She charged up the steps, dodging yet more arrows, and then spun around the corner firing a volley of her own right back at them, sending them scattering into cover. She leapt over the ballista and slammed her bow down into the face of a hurlock, making it stumble backwards before she buried her knife in its neck and then kicked the darkspawn back into the remaining two.

Her arrows finished them off, and she turned, wiping the sweat from her brow, to glance out at the battlefield. Her stomach dropped at the sight of so many darkspawn still surging forward, seemingly endless and unstoppable. At least Olivia was still holding the gate, although the number of men at her side had been reduced by one since Coline had last looked. If they lost that choke point… She shook her head. There was nothing she could do about  _that_ , but she  _could_  break the ballista to stop more darkspawn using the damn things against her archers.

**…**

Alistair had hoped the gate might last a little longer than it did – that certainly would have helped them prepare more – but there was no use in worrying about that now; there were darkspawn that needed killing. He wasn't sure what had happened to the soldiers that were supposed to hold the outer gate; he didn't really want to think about it. Instead he hit a hurlock in the face with his shield and then helped one of the soldiers who had been caught in the blast that took down the gate to his feet.

He gave the soldier a reassuring nod before he charged into the thick of it, slamming his shield into a hurlock that was coming up behind the Seneschal; Varel responded quickly, burying his sword in the staggered darkspawn, giving Alistair a nod in thanks. Then they stood back to back against the small horde that had found its way into the yard and began hacking away at the monsters. Varel's massive two handed blade severed limbs while Alistair kept them both safe with his shield, knocking down and swiping at any darkspawn that got too close.

The ogres, thankfully, had been thoroughly distracted by an irate Oghren who was hurling insults at the massive beasts – something about interrupting the first drink he'd had all week; Alistair couldn't quite hear over all the fighting - while he hacked at their ankles with his massive axe. Although Alistair was pretty sure the two mages hurling ice and fire at the ogres helped too.

More soldiers joined him and Varel, standing in a circle in the middle of the yard to fight the tide of evil that was threatening to overwhelm them all. Metal clashed with metal, and Alistair's arm vibrated with the force of a hard blow against his shield before shoving back with all his strength to knock the alpha to the ground; a soldier at his side lunged forward with his blade, slipping the metal under the creature's armour, killing it. Alistair had time to give the lad a grin before an arrow pierced the boy's helm, getting him right between the eyes.

He cursed, shaking his head, but he didn't have time to mourn. There were many darkspawn still surrounding them. He roared out a battle cry and charged at a hurlock, kicking it hard in the knee so that it dropped to the ground, then he swung his blade in a wide arc, lopping its head clean off.

"There are so many!" Varel cried out, breathless as he slashed at more, moving back to Alistair's side.

Alistair rather suspected Arietta had tasked the Seneschal with protecting him – not that he could blame her, he'd asked Neri to do the same thing for Arietta.

"We cannot give up," Alistair declared, lifting his shield just as an axe came crashing down on it.

"Duck," Varel hissed. Alistair did so, and Varel's blade swung over his head, slamming into the darkspawn, sending blood spurting everywhere.

"Thanks," Alistair replied as he straightened up.

Varel nodded. "I wasn't suggesting we should lie down, Your Majesty, only that there were rather a lot for us to deal with."

Alistair smiled as he slid his plunged his sword into the neck of a genlock - one of those pesky archers, perhaps even the one that had killed that boy.

"Well, it's just us, for now. We will have to make do."

But Varel was right; there were a lot of darkspawn. They had stopped pouring in through the shattered gate, perhaps, but their small force was still outnumbered and, one by one, the Keep's soldiers were falling.

"Watch out!" Varel yelled, shoving Alistair back hard, knocking him to the ground so that the charging ogre just missed him. Varel wasn't so lucky; Alistair watched helplessly from the ground as, in a blink of an eye, the ogre's horned head slammed into the Seneschal, sending the man flying back through the air to crash into the inner wall.

Alistair got to his feet, slicing at darkspawn as he rushed toward Varel's side. The ogre stood over him, roaring defiantly, a twisted grin on its face, one of smugness and triumph. Everything seemed to slow as the ogre lifted its fist, ready to strike. Varel was dazed, trying to stand, trying to lift his sword in defence. His eyes caught Alistair's, a weak smile at his lips; he knew it was the end, and Alistair's breath left him in a rush, a sobbed little 'no' leaving his lips. He gripped his sword tighter and clenched his jaw.

" _NO_!" he bellowed, charging now, running blindly forward, cutting down anything in his way.

But that fist still came down.

And then there was a flash of purple and the ogre screamed, its fist lifting instead to clutch its injured eye, yanking out an arrow that had pierced it. More arrows rained down from the wall, making the ogre stagger backwards, away from the injured Seneschal. Coline dropped to the ground in front of Varel, her bow in hand as she continued to fire arrow after arrow into the ogre's bloodied face.

She glanced at Alistair, violet hair swishing around her face. "Hurry up and kill it, would you?" she snapped.

He didn't need telling twice. He charged the injured ogre, slamming into it full force, shield first, knocking it into one of the outbuildings. He ducked as it blindly swung at him, and then jabbed his blade upward into the creature's fleshy armpit. He yanked his sword out just as the ogre spun on him, trying to grab at him. Sigrun was suddenly behind the ogre, her poisoned blades sinking deep into the bared flesh of its legs and the creature finally dropped to one knee. Alistair threw all his weight into his forward lunge, burying his sword deep in the ogre's skull.

He wiped his brow, his hand coming away soaked in sweat as he glanced at the little dwarf. She grinned up at him. "Sorry about the ogre. Apparently it got bored with Oghren's shouting." She shrugged and then darted off to join the others still battling the remaining ogre, which by the sounds of it, was now very angry that its fellow ogre had been killed.

Alistair rushed to Varel's side, where Coline was crouched in front of him, lifting a health potion to his lips. Varel drank, coughing slightly, but he gave Alistair a soft smile as he looked up at him.

"You thought I was done for," he commented hoarsely.

Alistair let out a small laugh. "I'm glad you proved me wrong."

"As am I."

Coline shook her head, standing. "I will get him up on the wall; it will be safer there." She flinched as a massive bang echoed around the yard. "What in the Void was that?"

"Not anything good, I should think," Alistair replied grimly. "Get him out of here." Coline nodded and Alistair headed back toward the gate, watching as the other Wardens finally took down the other ogre. He stood on the splintered, singed fragments of the gate, and his whole body tensed as he looked down the hill at the new rush of darkspawn running up it, straight for him and the inner yard.

He lifted his shield and sword, ready to fight. More soldiers joined him, and so did the Wardens, all of them standing tightly together, ready to hold this position to the death.

"Ain't gonna let you have all the fun, pike-twirler," Oghren said up to him with a bloodied grin.

Alistair shook his head, a reluctant smile on his lips. "How thoughtful."

"Here they come," Sigrun said, holding her blades ready.

"Then let us kill them," Velanna snarled, fire already licking at her fingertips.

"Ladies first," Max said with a smirk.

**…**

Neri was very out of breath when they finally came to a stop at the top of the hill. She had never been too great at the whole running thing; it wasn't like they had nightly jogs around the Tower to stay fit, and Rafael could  _really_  run when he had reason to. That reason became very apparent when she looked down into the valley around the Keep –  _their_  Keep. It was bloody Ostagar or Denerim all over again; just a sea of black, swarming ever inward.

"They're through both gates," Rafael panted out, eyes darting across the battlefield.

"They've broken through the wall too," she pointed out as she noticed a new surge of darkspawn rushing up the hill of the outer yard, with two ogres leading the charge.

"Then we need to fucking move," Rafael ordered as he began jogging down the hill.

She followed. "I realise that, but what's the plan here, exactly?"

He looked back over his shoulder at her. "Isn't that obvious? We fight our way to the gate and kill everything."

"Oh, is that all?" she laughed.

"Do your force magic thing," he clarified.

"As you command," she drawled.

"What you be wanting us to do?" Tethar asked as he followed them down the slope.

"Just… kill stuff," Rafael shouted back as he reached his first darkspawn, burying his dagger in its spine.

Tethar let out a loud laugh. "I see you be very good with your words."

Rafael shot a glare at it. "We don't have time!"

"Patient too," Dular teased.

Rafael groaned as he stabbed at another darkspawn, the horde now starting to take notice of them.

" _Neri_  – magic!" Rafael hissed.

"Yeah, yeah." The Fade crackled at her finger tips and she sent out a blast of magic, toppling the nearby darkspawn.

They ran through the gap she had created, Rafael not even bothering to kill the toppled foes as he sprinted at full speed toward the Keep. Barkspawn and the two darkspawn, however, did kill the fallen foes, making sure they stayed down, as Neri continued to cast and run.

She had expected it to be difficult to cast while surrounded by this many darkspawn, with their taint overwhelming her, but it wasn't, it made her feel… powerful, rejuvenated. She could feel every blighted creature around her; feel the rush of blood, their tainted bodies. She could feel the compulsion, the orders of the Mother, and beyond that, the Call of the Old Gods, echoing through the minds of every darkspawn in the horde, a quiet whisper of a hauntingly sad song desperately trying to get their attention, to call them back to the Deep Roads. But these darkspawn ignored it, following the Mother's orders instead, willing to die for her.

It would be so easy to control all of that… to just reach out and latch onto it, and something at the back of her mind wanted her to. But she shook her head and pressed on; she would only use that if she absolutely had to.

Neri fell into a familiar rhythm, her magic flying from her hands, the Fade warping and bending to her will, crashing into the horde with deadly force, sending darkspawn flying through the air, knocking others to the ground, or dragging them in close for the others in her group to kill. She drowned out the familiar sounds of battle, of the sounds of clinking armour, of the grunts and laughs of the darkspawn, of the heavy footfalls of ogres, or the horrible hissing of shrieks. And slowly but surely, they got closer to the gate, closer to being able to help Alistair and the others.

They were so close now; she could  _see_  Olivia holding the gate -not that it would do much good with so many darkspawn pouring in through the broken wall- but they were so close to reaching the others, to lending them a hand, to helping them hold the Keep, but that's when she felt it. His taint. Out in the middle of the bloody horde. Alone and  _terrified_.

 _Lenny_.

"Fuck!" she cursed as she stopped dead in her tracks, trying to look out through the horde for him.

"Neri!" Rafael shouted back to her. "What are you doing!?" he asked as he kicked a hurlock hard, knocking it to the ground.

"Lenny is out there!" she screamed back, as she sent out a blast of force magic, giving them all a moment's respite from the fighting.

"We can't help him!" Rafael said, coming to stand at her side, his grey eyes boring into her. "We  _have_  to reach the Keep."

But she knew she could. This time she could. She could save him. She  _would_  save him. He was her friend and he was scared and alone; dying like that was one of her biggest fears.  _Nobody_  deserved to die that way, especially not Lenny, not after he had been scared and alone most of his life.

She shook her head. "No, you do. I'm going after him."

"You can't be serious!" Rafael seethed, his brow furrowed as he ran a hand through his sweat-slicked curls. "You'll be alone out here against the entire horde, at least at the Keep you can-"

"He will die if I don't help," she said softly, interrupting him.

Rafael let out a string of Orlesian curses, and then sighed. "Then, good luck," he said, offering her a weak smile. "You're going to need it."

"This is me you're talking to." She smirked. "I'll be fine."

He shook his head a little, frowning, and then carried on running for the gate. Tethar and Dular seemed uncertain what to do until she waved them off as well, not wanting them to get caught up in what she was about to do.

She needed the darkspawn panicked, scared shitless and confused. It was the only way Lenny might be able to get back to the gate; as it was, she would never reach him in time. There were far too many darkspawn between them.

Neri glanced down at Barkspawn. "Be ready boy."

He barked in response, ready to strike down any darkspawn that came near her.

And then she pulled out the small dagger on her belt and held it over her opened palm. With a lick of her lips, she pressed the cold biting metal to her skin, and dragged it across her palm; she moaned softly as the warm blood began to trickle out of the long cut, flowing out across her palm. She watched the blood a moment, the rich red, dark with the taint, already it was buzzing with power, desperate to be unleashed. She glanced up at the horde stretched out before her, at all of the hundreds of darkspawn trying to kill her friends, to destroy her home, and she smirked.

Slowly, the dark droplets of blood lifted upwards, swirling gently in her palm, looking strangely beautiful against her pale skin. She took a deep breath and then she sent her blood forward in a rush. The first blast hit a darkspawn straight in the face; thick red tendrils wrapped tightly around its skull and the darkspawn struggled, screaming as it tried to pull the tendrils away. She clenched her bloodied hand in response and the darkspawn's skull exploded inwards; its mushy brains and life's blood lifted with her magic and jumped to her next victim. She sent more blood out of her palm, hitting more darkspawn, killing them, and then stealing their life force to add to her magic.

Soon she had torrent after torrent jumping between targets and she couldn't help but grin; she felt unstoppable,  _God-like._  And her magic had the intended result; darkspawn were panicking, trying to flee from her. But Lenny was injured and still surrounded. Her current games with the darkspawn wouldn't be enough; she needed to do  _more._

**…**

Lenny's arms were trembling. He knew it was only his drive to reach Olivia again that was keeping him alive this long. He  _had_  to get back to her. There was no way she was dead, not her, and so he could not – _would_  not- let her down by  _dying_  out here, alone.

He was hurt; he could feel the blood soaking through his armour, and his breathing was ragged, breaths too short, and that made him dizzy, his swings getting sloppier by the minute. His horse was long since dead, having panicked and bolted into the middle of the battlefield before getting speared; he had been fortunate, at least, that he had only been thrown from his horse and not crushed beneath it. Even so, he was one elf against a horde, a very large horde, and he was still so far from the walls, from the gate, from Olivia…

His heart was hammering in his chest, all his fears and anxieties flooding to the forefront of his mind as the darkspawn laughed at him, playing with him rather than just ending things quickly. It made him feel like a little boy all alone in the Alienage again as the other elves all stared down at him, laughing and mocking him for being so weak, prolonging his suffering for their own sick amusement.

All he could see were darkspawn, their gruesome faces and razor sharp teeth, grinning menacingly as they circled him. All he could hear was their twisted laughter. All he could feel was the claustrophobia of them slowly closing in on him, trapping him.

He wanted to curl up and hide, hands over his ears and just let it end. But he  _couldn't_  – not if she was still alive. He needed to know – needed to be  _sure_  either way. If she was truly gone, he would let it end so that he could be reunited with her, but if she wasn't… then he had to fight, he had to  _live_. He lifted his blades a little higher, a new surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins, giving him the courage to fight on.

Lenny lifted his dual swords, swinging them broadly, cutting down several darkspawn with his sudden attack; that seemed to be the jolt they needed in order to actually fight back rather than just mock him, and soon his blades were clashing against theirs. He swung low, gutting a hurlock that was ready to swing its axe at him and then carried on moving forward, cutting down anything that came near him.

He gasped, his entire body going cold as something sharp pierced his back, and then slowly pushed through his gut and then out the other side. His swords fell from his hands as he stared down at the bloodied tip of the blade sticking out of his belly; his eyes widened as that blade was dragged back out, fresh pain tearing through him. And then he was falling to his knees, his hands clutching his bloodied armour as more blood flowed out of the wound. The darkspawn laughed in his ear and then slowly moved around to stand in front of him, its booted feet on his swords as it stared down at him with a smug grin. Lenny just stared up at him, helpless.

It was as the hurlock lifted its sword for the kill that Lenny was afforded a view of the gate for the first time since his horse had panicked. A smile stretched across his face; Olivia was there. Alive. She was alive. And he was about to die. He frowned.

And then that sword came crashing down.

Lenny lunged at the last second, tackling the hurlock to the ground with a scream of agony from him and a grunt from the darkspawn. Lenny didn't waste a second; he buried his fingers into the creature's eyes, digging his nails deep into the sockets until the darkspawn's screams drowned out his own.

He grabbed the knife from his belt and drove it down into the darkspawn's skull, burying to the hilt, before rolling off of the hurlock, panting hard as he clutched his gut as a new wave of agonising nausea washed over him; he bit his tongue trying to stifle his cries, hardening his resolve. He  _had_  to reach Olivia.

So he did the only thing he could. He crawled, just as he had done the last time he had been this close to death at the hands of darkspawn. He dragged himself over darkspawn corpses, across the muddy ground, praying to every God he knew to please let him reach her side once more.

To his surprise, the Gods answered. The darkspawn ignored him entirely, most of them running away from him, or clutching at their heads; others were on their knees, their whole bodies shaking violently as horrible raspy cries left their lips. He didn't know what was happening to them; didn't care, so long as it meant he could be with Olivia again.

He got closer and closer, to the Keep, to the gate, and to her.

**…**

Olivia wanted to look away, to get away, from the sight and the stench of Neri's blood magic; every time she looked up to fight off darkspawn trying to get in through the gate she would see the torrents of blood leaping through the air, exploding darkspawn or wrapping around them, just like the elf had done back when the Keep had been attacked the first time. It was horrifying to watch.

Olivia had no idea why Neri was back; she had briefly wondered if it meant that the Commander had returned as well but she doubted it; the Mother was too important. Regardless, Neri was here, and Olivia had to remind herself over and over again that Neri was  _helping_. But Jerrick had been trying to  _help_  too. She clutched the wall, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to get the images - of all of those children dead in a circle… of her brother – out of her head.

This was different. What Neri was doing was necessary – they were facing an entire  _horde,_  and her magic was their best bet of winning- especially now that the wall had been breached by those damned ogres, but the  _smell_  and the sounds of darkspawn screaming… she felt like she was going to pass out.

"Olivia!" a familiar voice suddenly yelled.

She looked up just as Rafael came into view with two darkspawn giving chase right behind him. She lifted her sword. "Behind you!" she hissed in warning, already limping forward to assist him.

He shook his head, making her frown. "They're with me!"

" _What?_ "

"Talkers!" he explained breathlessly as he reached her. "I don't have time to explain properly. They will stay and help you," he said as he cut down another darkspawn. "Send men to that breach in the wall; we have to control this horde."

She lifted her shield, blocking a blow from a hurlock as she gave him a nod; she pushed the darkspawn back into Rafael and he buried his dagger in the darkspawn's skull.

"And Olivia… Lenny is out there,  _alive_ ; Neri is trying to save him."

Her mouth fell open at that and hope bloomed in her chest, as her eyes instinctively scanned the battlefield, looking for him. She glanced back to the rogue. "You're sure he's alive, that she's-"

"It's what she said, and why she isn't with me right now," he said briskly. "I have to go find Max. Good luck," he said before darting off up the hill to the Keep, leaving her with two grinning darkspawn and her silver knights.

She turned walking back to the gate. "I need half of you at the breach in the wall! We hold these two positions, no matter what!"

"Yes ma'am!" several of her men responded, saluting her before rushing off.

The darkspawn emissary smirked at her. "Will this one be needing to salute too?"

"No, just-"

"Kill stuff," the alpha finished. "We be knowing." Both darkspawn stood with her at the gate, the emissary unleashing a fireball at a group of fleeing darkspawn that were trying to get into the Keep and away from whatever it was that Neri was doing to the horde out in the middle of the battlefield, and the alpha swung its axe wide, finishing off the burning creatures.

Olivia blocked a shriek's advance, gritting her teeth as pain flared up her half-healed leg. She shoved the darkspawn back, knocking it to the dirt before she plunged her sword deep into its tough skin. It was as she looked up that her eyes locked onto something silver and blue. Something that made her heart skip a beat.

 _Lenny_.

He was right there.

She was running before she had even realised her feet were moving, cutting down anything that got between her and him. Lenny struggled to his knees, grimacing as he slowly got to his feet, clutching his bloodied waist. Her gut twisted to see him in such a bad way, but he was  _alive_. Nothing else mattered.

She reached him, wrapping her arms around his neck, tears falling freely from her eyes. "I thought- I thought-"

"Shh, Vhenan, I know," he whispered shakily, his hands reaching around her back to hold her close.

She sighed into his neck, the relief of having him back in her arms flooding through her like physical thing.

When she opened her eyes a small gasp left her lips. "Len…" she whispered as she pulled back from him. His watery blue eyes looked up in awe at the shimmering blue barrier protecting them.

"Neri," Lenny said quietly. "She's here?"

Olivia nodded, her eyes once again searching through the horde. "There!" she said, pointing some ways away at where the elf stood with blood swirling around her. "She's actually protecting us," she said quietly, astonished.

"Told you s-she isn't so b-bad," Lenny teased weakly, looking half-dead on his feet as he leaned heavily against her.

Olivia smiled, shaking her head. "We have to get you back to the Keep."

"What about Neri? She's out there a-alone."

Olivia swallowed. "I know but she can handle herself, love."

"You know how much focus those barriers need, what if she-"

The barrier suddenly flickered out around them just as a loud scream echoed across the valley. Olivia's stomach dropped at the sound of it, that ear piercing screech that could only belong to one person.

"Merde," she cursed.

Lenny looked at her, eyes wide and pleading and she scanned the horde again, looking at the spot Neri had been standing in just moments before; she was gone.

"Olivia," he begged.

She looked around, panicking. She had to get Lenny back to the Keep, but after Neri had risked her life for them…

Suddenly the two talking darkspawn were at their sides. "The Slayer be needing help," the emissary shouted.

"I know," she said. "Damn it. Alright, emissary you're with me; we're going to go look for her. Alpha, take my husband back to the gate, protect him with your life; do not let anything happen to him, you hear me?"

"I be hearing just fine," the large hurlock said with a grin.

Olivia kissed Lenny on the forehead. "I'll see you soon. I love you, Len."

"I love you too," he whispered, "And thank you, love."

Olivia nodded and then charged forward through what was left of the horde with the emissary at her side.


	50. A Bloody End

"That all you got, mage?" Oghren taunted, as he charged in yet again to slice at the ogre's ankles, but the armoured creature shrugged off the attack, still refusing to fall.

They had all retreated back from the gate when the darkspawn became too great of a force to deal with in such a confined space. Alistair and the soldiers were holding the Keep's doors; everyone else had stuck close together as they fought the horde, but they had been fighting for so damned long now, and Maxime was really starting to feel weary.

"I am running out of mana!" Max shouted back.

"Heh, so swords  _are_  better than magic."

"No. I didn't say that. I simply said that I am getting a little tired; that happens to warriors too, you know!" he replied, as he unleashed a blast of ice at the ogre's arm, slowing it enough for Sigrun to safely roll out of the way.

She gave him a thankful nod. "I dunno, Oghren, he's doing a better job of watching my back than you are."

"That would be because Oghren is too busy  _watching_  your back," Max retorted with a smirk. Oghren grumbled something under his breath but Max carried on. "And besides, if I really  _do_  run out of mana, I still have my staff!"

Oghren grunted as he hacked into a hurlock. "You keep that thing away from me, Lanky."

"Aw Oghren, does the length of my staff intimidate you?" Max cackled as he dodged a sword swipe from a particularly large hurlock.

"Ha! Not bloody likely!" the dwarf shot back.

"It should," Sigrun muttered with a small smile.

"You weren't complaining last night, woman!" Oghren replied gruffly as he charged back toward the ogre.

Max lifted his staff, using it to block another sword swipe from the hurlock, but to his horror, his staff snapped right down the middle, and then the hurlock's blade was swinging down, cutting straight into the flesh and bone of his shoulder, and Max was screaming. Despite the pain, all he could think was that Oghren was going to laugh so hard at this if he survived it, something along the lines of 'long staves ain't so good after all, hey mage?'

The hurlock grinned at him as it ripped the blade out of his shoulder blade, and Maxime was certain that he was screaming again but he couldn't hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears. He felt faint and so very cold, and just as he was sure the darkspawn was going to finish him off, the creature shuddered, a small gasp leaving its mouth before it collapsed to the ground, a purple-fletched arrow in the back of its head. Max looked up and found Coline with her bow in hand; she gave him a small nod and then darted away.

He lifted his hand to his shoulder, summoning healing magic to his fingertips, but little more than a trickle of magic flowed over the deep gash. "Let me," Velanna suddenly said from his side, her own magic pouring into his wound. "That was a lesson in arrogance, I believe," she said with a small smirk.

He snorted. "If anybody here is arrogant it's-" The ogre was suddenly back, charging toward them. Max grabbed Velanna, throwing her to the side. And then the ogre's hands locked around his waist, squeezing tightly as he was hauled up into the air, his breath forced out of his lungs in a rush. His ribs cracked, but he had no air with which to scream as the ogre tightened its grip.

**...**

Rafael ran. Ran faster than he ever had. He didn't think, he simply reacted. The ogre had Max, was  _crushing_  Max! He charged, and jumped, clambering onto the ogre's armoured back. He grabbed the creature's shoulder guard next, hauling himself up, and then he held onto the ogre's horn with one hand, clinging on for dear life as the creature began to thrash. He plunged his dagger up into the base of the ogre's neck, pushing it deep into its skull.

Max fell from the ogre's hands, limp and pale, and Rafael jumped off its back before the ogre fell to the ground, dead. He rushed to Max's side, where Velanna was already healing him, her magic lighting up fiercely over his unmoving body. Rafael stood there, frozen as he waited for Max to breathe.

It felt like an eternity passed him by – a hellish eternity where Max was both there and not there, where their entire lives were held in limbo. Like a coin flip; in one Max didn't take a breath and Rafael had once again lost the love of his life, and the other, where Max  _did_  take a breath and they were back together, dodging death once more.

Rafael's breath left him in a rush when it turned out to be the latter.

He collapsed to his knees at Max's side, clutching onto the mage's cold clammy hand as he watched his chest fall and rise. Velanna looked to him, a small smile on her face. "I will look after him, but this fight is far from over; the darkspawn here might finally be dead, but the ones out there are not."

"She's right," Alistair said from behind him. "We need to deal with the rest of the horde."

"Neri's handling them," Rafael said dismissively. "I'm sure the fight will be over shortly."

"You mean she's using blood magic,  _again?_ " Alistair asked, sounding exasperated.

"Yes."

The king sighed.

"I'll go check out the situation at the gate," Sigrun said as she darted off.

"Was it only you and Neri who come back to help?" Alistair asked as he ran a hand through his hair, his face red and sweaty.

"Yes, well, and two talking darkspawn, but the Commander is at the lair," Rafael explained as his thumb ran small circles over the skin of Max's hand.

"Well, she'll be pleased to know only the exterior of her Keep has been completely wrecked," Alistair mused.

"Mmm," Rafael mumbled back.

"Right, distracted, nearly losing your loved one will do that. I'll just go over here, where I'm… not in the way."

Max's eyes finally fluttered open and the mage groaned, wincing in pain. "Take it easy, Max," Rafael whispered. "I've got you."

Velanna let out another wave of healing magic, suddenly looking very sick herself as she clutched onto her staff.

"You're back early," Max mused, and Rafael couldn't help but think that it was a good thing he was… if he hadn't been here… hadn't stopped that ogre…

"And that was  _really_  unpleasant," Max groused, pulling Rafael from his sombre thoughts. "Remind me never to get crushed to near-death by an ogre ever again. You know I could feel each of my ribs crack? Feel my lungs fill with blood?" he said in a rush, making Rafael smile; his Max was here, was okay. Maxime groaned as he tried to move but Velanna pushed him back down with a growl. "Right. I should be resting – but I can still sense darkspawn, so clearly this fight isn't over yet?"

"That's right, magey, you're lying down on the job before it's even done," Oghren taunted. "Ha, and that staff of yours… not so impressive now, eh?"

Max opened his mouth to retort but Rafael put a hand on his shoulder. "It's fine, Max. You've done more than enough," he said softly.

"Neri needs our help!" Sigrun yelled from the broken gate, rousing everyone who was recuperating in the yard back to their feet to charge down the hill.

"Go," Max whispered. "I'll be fine here; you have to help her."

Rafael clenched his teeth and nodded. "I love you."

Max smiled weakly. "I love you too."

**…**

Neri was pretty sure it was some twisted irony that had allowed the little genlock to get in close and stab her with its poison-laced blades. She had been setting the taint in the darkspawn's veins on fire, making it bubble and boil within them, and the poison used to attack her had done more or less the exact same thing to her, making it feel like her blood had caught fire.

The initial inferno that had ripped through her veins had at least died down; now it felt like her blood was simply bubbling, sort of like a stew, slowly cooking her insides.  _Lovely._  All she could do was writhe on the ground, her cries little more than hoarse whimpers, her throat too parched for anything more as she occasionally sent out a blast of blood magic to ward off the encroaching darkspawn while Barkspawn desperately tried to defend her when anything did get brave enough to move closer. But it was only a matter of time until a large group moved in for the kill; Barkspawn was one hound against a horde – a very angry horde who wanted her dead for the brutal ways in which she had been killing and torturing them all.

She opened her eyes again, her vision blurry, dark shapes all around her, closing in. Her heart was pounding in her chest, beating way too fast, and every time she tried to move, her muscles felt like they were being set aflame all over again. But then she caught sight of something blonde rushing toward her. For a moment she frowned, wondering if darkspawn had started to grow hair or wear wigs; that thought made her laugh hysterically even though she knew it really wasn't the time or the place for such a thing, and she grimaced in pain, curling in on herself again. When she next blinked her eyes open, the blonde figure was at her side, a cold gauntleted hand cupping her face.

"Neri?" Olivia's soft but concerned voice said from above her.

Neri let out a croaky groan in response, her whole body shuddering as another wave of fire cut through her veins. She couldn't believe that, of all the people at the Keep,  _Olivia_  was out here to save her sorry ass. It made no sense, especially not with Lenny so badly injured.

"I know this poison," Olivia muttered, holding the blade of the fallen genlock. "Merde," she cursed out under her breath. "Neri, you have to relax."

Neri laughed at that, a twisted, broken, incredulous sort of laugh.

"I know how it sounds. But it reacts to stress, if you calm down it will reduce the poison's effects," Olivia explained as she stroked Neri's hair, pushing the sweat slicked strands away from her face. "Focus on something other than the pain or the darkspawn."

Neri swallowed thickly, her throat so damned dry. She took a deep breath and focused on the one thing she was good at, the one thing that she could always focus on no matter what. Magic. She heard Olivia gasp and the emissary chuckle, but then she tuned them out, focusing instead on the pulsing waves of the Fade at the edge of her consciousness, floating close to it but not quite losing herself to sleep. She let the lapping waters of the veil wash over her, cooling her, drawing on its energies, letting it caress and envelop her.

Somewhere over her she heard Olivia's voice, muffled and quiet, telling her to take deep calming breaths. Neri breathed in with each wave of the Fade that washed over her, and out as the sea-Fade receded. In and out. Slow and steady.

Olivia watched Neri, curled up on her side, her breathing gradually returning back to normal. Those long elven fingers of hers were clutching onto Olivia's hand, squeezing tightly with each painful spasm that rocked the elf's body, but the spasms were lessening, and soon those fingers held her hand more loosely. Olivia ran her thumb over the blood slicked skin, trying to soothe the little elf, her other hand still stroking her messy, sweat and blood stained curls.

Olivia had never really properly looked at Neri, never watched her quite like this. She'd never have noticed how many worry lines the elf usually carried on her brow, if it weren't for the way her face relaxed now, as Neri fell into some kind of trance. Only occasionally did those lines return, accompanied by a small grimace of pain before fading again.

"That's it," Olivia whispered, a relieved sigh ghosting past her lips.

Olivia looked up at the emissary who was standing over them both, a grin on its face as it leaned against its gnarled staff, Neri's blue barrier still shimmering over them all. She had no idea how the elf was able to keep such a spell going while in so much pain; it was incredible. Even with the darkspawn army pounding on the walls of the barrier, it didn't budge, didn't falter once.

It was the same kind of barrier Neri had placed over Olivia and Lenny a short while ago; she had protected them, and had thus put herself in harm's way. It was not something Olivia had come to expect from a blood mage, and yet Neri was doing it again, protecting them all with a barrier when it surely would have been easier to focus on something – _anything_ \- else. Something less straining than a spell, like a loved one or a favourite memory. It was telling, too, that the spell the elf had picked was one of protection instead of blood magic.

How had Olivia been so wrong about her?

"She be surviving this?" the emissary asked.

Olivia nodded. "I believe so, yes." And she was actually relieved about that fact.

Barkspawn moved closer to his owner, tail wagging as he began licking Neri's face. The elf's brown eyes fluttered open and she winced as she tried to push her hound away from her face.

"Here," Olivia said softly, passing the elf her canteen. Neri drank greedily, her narrow throat bobbing with each long pull. The elf wiped her lip and passed the canteen back to her with a small nod of thanks. "How do you feel?" Olivia asked quietly.

Neri sighed. "Like I got set on fire from the inside out." She rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck. "Is that poison gone now?"

Olivia shook her head. "No. It will be in your system a few hours yet; while it is, you need to remain calm." She moved forward and tied her last bandage around the wound on Neri's leg; it was a deep gash, one that would need proper healing later, but for now they had bigger problems.

"Let me guess, otherwise I will get crippled by it again?" Neri asked as she tried moving her leg, wincing slightly.

Olivia nodded.

" _Wonderful._ "

It was then that Neri seemed to notice the barrier she had erected over them all, her lips curving into a small smile in response.

"I have no idea how you kept that up," Olivia commented, in awe.

Neri shrugged. "You told me to focus on something, so I did."

"It's remarkable," Olivia said honestly. "And it saved us. Now  _and_  then."

Neri tilted her head to the side, surprised by Olivia's words; it was probably the closest thing to an apology she would ever hear from the blonde warrior.

"Not to be interrupting this moment you be having…" Tethar started, a lopsided grin on its face. "But I be needing to interrupt."

Neri snorted. "Right… darkspawn army."

Olivia got to her feet, running a hand through her hair. "We're right in the middle of them all," she sighed. "And they look angry,  _really_  angry."

Neri let out a choked laugh. "Who'd have thought?"

"I don't think they're even trying to get into the Keep anymore; they're all heading our way."

"They want me dead," Neri said plainly as she very slowly got to her feet. Her entire body ached and she still felt incredibly warm, the poison in her veins just waiting to ignite again.

"We have to fight our way to the Keep. I will cut a path for us; Tethar, I need you roasting anything that comes near-"

Neri knew she wouldn't be able to fight or run; as soon as her heartbeat got too fast, the poison would cripple her all over again. She still had her blood magic, but it would be safer if Olivia and Tethar weren't near her when she did that…

"Olivia…"

The blonde warrior turned to look at her with a frown. "What?"

"They want  _me_."

Realisation dawned on Olivia's face and then she scowled. "No."

Neri balked at that. "What do you mean  _no_?"

"You're not sacrificing yourself. We are getting out of this  _together_."

"I'm not… Look, I can't run, and my mana is almost out. That leaves me with blood magic, and it's probably best if you aren't here for that."

"If you use blood magic on your own out here, you will die. You always pass out after using too much of it, and that's if you can even cast it before getting skewered," Olivia argued.

"It's our best chance though," Neri reasoned. "I didn't save you and Lenny for you to die here with me now."

"And I didn't cut through the horde with a bad leg to save your stubborn ass, only for you to lay down and die."

"I am not lying down and dying!"

"Seems like it to me."

Neri grit her teeth. "You're so fucking stubborn."

"Sound like anyone else I know?" Olivia shot back, making Neri roll her eyes. "Look, this is not up for debate. We are getting back to the Keep, together."

Neri sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Why do you suddenly care what happens to me?"

Olivia shook her head, frowning slightly. "I… was wrong about you, okay? Can we  _please_  not do this now? We need to get out of here."

"Oh yes, through the horde that wants to kill me."

"We will get past them."

Neri shook her head ruefully. "If you say so."

"Will this one be needing to carry you, Mother?" Tethar threatened, stepping forward to stand at Olivia's side.

Neri arched a brow at the emissary. " _Carry_  me?"

"We be blood. I be protecting you."

Neri's mouth fell open at that, but Olivia moved forward. "See? Even the darkspawn isn't going to let you stay out here alone." Barkspawn barked his agreement, all three of them standing in front of her, staring at her expectantly.

"Oh for-" Neri paced. " _Fine_! Have it your way."

"Drop your barrier and we'll get going."

Neri laughed. "Drop my barrier, she says." Neri cracked her knuckles and rolled her neck, taking deep breaths as she tried to slow her already-speeding-up-heartbeat. "I intend to do more than just  _drop_  it." They needed a fighting chance, and she would give it to them.

Neri stared down at her palm, cutting it open once more with her small knife, watching as fresh blood spilled from the wound. She placed her hand on the barrier, and, slowly but surely, her blood trickled out; the wispy tendrils climbing across the inner wall of her barrier, slowly spreading over it, like vines on a wall. The blood crept across the shimmering blue dome until it coated it, and then it began to soak into the magic of her barrier, turning the bright blue a vibrant purple, with whorls of dark red swirling across its surface as it mixed together with her remaining dregs of mana.

She took a step back, admiring her handiwork, but feeling weaker for it, her eyes barely staying open. She glanced at Olivia and Tethar with a weak smile at the awestruck expressions. "The gate is that way," she said lifting her shaky arm to point. "Be ready to move." They both nodded at her.

Neri clenched her fists and her barrier began to vibrate with energy, the magic churning and bubbling, ready to be let loose. The darkspawn outside began to back away; she could sense the fear in them, the uncertainty. She smirked, and then she opened both of her fists and the barrier exploded outwards; a wave of energy tore out in a ring, so strong it knocked all of the nearby darkspawn on their arses.

Olivia motioned for them to run, and Neri followed with Barkspawn at her side. She had managed to put some of the poison into her barrier, and it seemed to be affecting the darkspawn – some of them were writhing on the ground – but there was still a great deal of it in her system, already beginning to burn her veins again, making each breath she took feel like she was sucking in fire instead of air as it burned her lungs. She hissed through the pain as she tried to speed up, not liking how far ahead Olivia was getting even with a bad limp, but her muscles felt like lead, every step harder than the last.

Suddenly, spiked gauntlets were digging into her hips and thighs; the world shifted, and she found herself thrown, rather unceremoniously, over Tethar's shoulder.

She groaned as her head spun.

"You be thinking I was joking," the darkspawn laughed heartily as he jogged onwards, making Neri's body shake with each hurried step.

"We tell  _no-one,_ " she muttered through chattering teeth.

"I see the others!" Olivia shouted back to them.

Neri groaned and Tethar laughed loudly. "This not being your day."

She just shuddered in response; despite being carried, her heart was still beating fast, too fast, and the poison was back, burning through her veins with vengeance. She tried to take calming breaths, but all she could manage were short ragged breaths that made her feel light headed and did nothing to stop her panicking.

She was vaguely aware of talking – or maybe it was shouting - around her; familiar voices, but the words were muffled. She opened her eyes, her vision blurred, and tried to look around. Alistair was looking down at her; she frowned, not remembering ever being put on the ground. His hands gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at him; his lips were moving but she couldn't hear over the blood surging through her ears. Water hit her in the face and she gasped, finally taking a long deep breath that filled her lungs with cool fresh air, and that was enough for her hearing to clear and her heart to slow a little.

"Come on, Neri!" Alistair was pleading through panted breaths.

"Yeah. Wakey wakey, Warden!" she heard Oghren shout from nearby. "What is it with you mages? This ain't nap time."

She blinked up at Alistair and then turned her head to look at the Wardens standing around her in a Circle, all of them fighting off the horde that was still trying to wipe them all out.

She grimaced.

"Yeah," Alistair sighed, wiping sweat from his brow. "We're a bit stuck."

With his help, she slowly sat up, getting a proper look at that situation. There were still at least a few hundred darkspawn surrounding them, and most of the Wardens looked to be pretty exhausted by this point.

"What's the plan?" she asked croakily.

Alistair flushed, his cheeks turning even redder. "We don't really have one."

"Not dying would be nice," Coline retorted as she fired another arrow from her bow.

Neri glanced around at all of the Wardens in their small group: at Olivia fighting alongside Tethar; the darkspawn unleashed fire upon the horde, and Olivia finished them off with her blade. Sigrun and Coline were next to one another; Coline using precision shots to stun or slow the darkspawn so that Sigrun could get in quick with her axes and end them. Oghren was with her hound, both of them tearing into the darkspawn with brutal savagery. And Rafael stood back to back with Dular, ducking under long swings of his axe to bury his dagger in the staggered enemies. They were all holding, for now, but it was obvious they were tiring and running out of options: Coline was nearly out of arrows, Olivia was limping heavily, Tethar was no doubt running out of mana and everyone else's strikes were slowing as fatigue set in.

Neri had one spell left up her sleeve, one that she might actually be able to cast properly now that she was protected by a ring of Wardens, but it would take time to prepare.

"Help me up," she said, giving Alistair her hands.

He pulled her to her feet, frowning a little. "You're going to use  _you know what_ , aren't you?" he asked, wincing.

"Do you have any other suggestions?"

"I guess I was hoping you might have some ingenious plan to get us out of this mess."

"I do, it's called using blood magic, Alistair."

He sighed. "Alright, I guess we don't have a choice… just, promise me you won't kill yourself doing this, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Now go hold off the horde; I need to focus."

…

Rafael was surprised, and a little horrified, at how well he fought beside the massive hurlock alpha. Dular was a terrifying sight, his impressive fur-covered armour splattered with blood, the bones that decorated his armour rattling with every swing of his massive axe, his huge horned helmet making him look more ogre than hurlock. The darkspawn they were fighting seemed to be incensed that a darkspawn would fight beside Wardens, and Dular used their anger against them, letting them charge forward, straight into his axe, chopping various limbs from bodies. Dular caught on quick to Rafael's fighting style – again, scary thought - and thus they worked well together, with Rafael ducking under the alpha's swings to finish off the injured darkspawn, both of them watching one another's backs.

Rafael dug his dagger deep into the neck of a genlock, and then he watched as the darkspawn's blood was pulled straight from the wound, sweeping through the air to join the rest of the blood spiralling around Neri. The dark red torrents looked more like red silk flowing and billowing out around her before sweeping back in close. A few wispy tendrils of blood escaped the main bulk of swirling blood, looking like curling fingers, reaching for the horde before breaking into little droplets of blood that were then pulled back into the blood twisting around the elf. All around them, as more darkspawn fell to Warden blades, blood poured through the air to join the ever growing twister of blood beginning to pick up speed as it spiralled in the centre of their circle.

It wouldn't be long now before Neri's spell was complete, until her magics had interwoven and tied together. Her precious life force drove the blood as the thick black darkspawn blood joined it, and all across the ground, the older blood of dead darkspawn was sucked into the torrent of blood, the thick black tendrils slowly crawling across the ground. Everything tainted was being pulled toward it; even Rafael's own blood was tingling, the taint in his veins also drawn to Neri's magic. He noticed that Dular looked distinctly uncomfortable next to him, clearly feeling the pull of her magic as well.

Neri's magic began swirling around her even faster, blocking her from view, moving fast enough to blow Rafael's hair away from his face, turning into a blur of dark red. And for a moment he could have sworn he saw a face in the swirling mix of blood and taint, but then Neri was screaming at them to all get down.

Dular grabbed him, pulling him down to the ground, an arm over him protectively. And then Neri's blood exploded outward, surging over them. At first it felt like a hot blast of air, sucking the breath from his lungs and leaving them singed, and then the blood surged forward, briefly blackening out the sky as it rolled right over them, so close he could have touched it. Dular was panting hard next to him, a grimace on his face, and Rafael knew why; his own blood felt like it was being dragged upwards, making his heart beat erratically for a moment. It must have felt horrible to a completely tainted creature. And there was something else there too, an overwhelming compulsion to run, to flee, to get as far away from Neri and her magic as possible.

He could hear the blood crashing into darkspawn, could hear the cries and screams, but he kept his head down, teeth gritted until his heartbeat returned to normal, until the urge to run was gone. Dular's arm moved off of him and Rafael finally looked up at the battlefield, at the absolute carnage before him. There was nothing left. Every darkspawn that had been caught in the blast had been completely obliterated, their bodies nothing more than bloodied remains, coating the ground in a disgusting layer of blood, guts and fragments of armour. The darkspawn fortunate enough to avoid the deadly wave were fleeing for their lives, but Neri's magic had turned into a tsunami, with multiple waves rolling over the battlefield, giving chase to the fleeing darkspawn. Occasionally a torrent of blood jumped from target to target, arcing through the air like chain lightning to finish off a straggler.

"Neri!" he heard Alistair cry, his voice sounding hoarse.

Rafael turned to see the elf still surrounded by a twister of blood, albeit a much smaller version than the last one. It was her face that really caught his attention though; her eyes were black as ink, and she was staring off into the middle-distance with a twisted grin plastered across her face. Alistair called her name again but she didn't respond, didn't pay attention to him; she just kept staring.

The others had started to get to their feet, all of them sharing concerned looks as they tried to get Neri's attention.

"Neri! They're gone, we won. You can stop now!" Olivia urged, her hand on her sword.

That did get Neri's attention though; the elf turned to face Olivia, head tilting. Rafael couldn't see the elf's face with her back to him, but he could see Olivia's pale, see her take a step back, eyes wide.

"You'll die if you keep this up!" Alistair begged, grabbing Neri's arm.

Neri turned on him, thick tendrils of blood surging forward, up Alistair's arm, over his golden gauntlets; he pulled back with a cry, struggling to get the gauntlet off of his hand before the blood reached his skin. And still Neri advanced toward Alistair, not recognising him.

"Fuck this," Rafael muttered. He leapt in and brought the butt of his dagger down on Neri's head; she crumpled, falling to the ground with a thud. The spiralling blood dropped too, hitting the ground with a splash before spilling across the ground and over the tips of his boots. He dropped to his knees and grabbed Neri, turning her over so she didn't drown in a puddle of her own blood, watching her shallow but steady breathing.

"That was…." Coline's face scrunched up. "Unpleasant."

Everybody groaned their agreement.

Rafael looked up to Alistair. "You're okay?" he asked.

"I, yes, I'm fine. I just – did you  _see_  the way she looked at me?" he mumbled, frowning as he rubbed his wrist.

"She didn't know us," Olivia murmured, looking dazed still. "I could feel her pulling the taint in my veins, like she was planning on ripping it out of me any moment…" She shuddered.

"That is the last time we let her use blood magic," Rafael growled, as he rubbed his face, the others nodded their agreement. All this time Neri had sworn to them that she hadn't made any deals with demons, but the spell she had just cast, the way it had compelled him to flee, and her loss of control afterwards suggested otherwise.

"Are we going to have to clean all of this up?" Sigrun asked, looking at the blood-soaked field.

Oghren chuckled at her side. "Last person back to the Keep has to do it." Oghren and Sigrun ran off. Coline gave Olivia her arm and helped her back toward the Keep, leaving Rafael and Alistair with the two darkspawn and an unconscious Neri.

"I be carrying the Mother again," Tethar said with a sigh, rolling his neck.

Rafael and Alistair had no objections to that, both of them just as freaked out as the other at Neri's loss of control.

Tethar lifted Neri up, carrying her in his arms and slowly they all made their way back to the Keep.

"Your little dagger not be so bad," Dular commented to Rafael with a grin.

Rafael gave the alpha a small smile. "Thank you for protecting me."

The darkspawn made a coughing noise. "My arm be falling like that accidentally, did not want to be moving it once her blood be over us; do not be taking it so personally, human."

Rafael smirked. "And you accidentally grabbed me and pulled me to the ground too, right?"

Dular growled and Rafael laughed.

"He be liking you," Tethar said with a snicker.

Dular let out a loud grunt. "I be liking my axe between your eyes very soon."

"As lovely as this is… maybe we should just focus on getting back to the Keep?" Alistair piped up.

"As you be commanding, Your Majesty," both of the darkspawn said with a laugh that made Alistair shake his head.

"Yeah, I'm  _never_  getting used to this whole talking darkspawn thing."

Rafael chuckled. "You and me both."


	51. Flabby Eight Tits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final battle chapter! Might also be the final chapter for a couple of weeks; I am behind on writing atm. So sorry about that!   
> Massive thanks to Lys for this one and her excellent betaing. And thank you to those who take the time to comment, seriously, you are amazing and I hope you enjoyed this update. <3

_Meanwhile…_

"I think the dragon might actually have been preferable to  _this,_ " Anders moaned as they all continued to crawl through the repugnant tunnel. "I don't even know what this pink stuff is, but it's under my fingernails and I think its staining my hands."

"Will you ever be stopping with the complaining?" Herak commented with a groan.

"It's unlikely," Nathaniel responded with a sigh.

"It shouldn't be much farther, right?" Arietta asked, trying not to inhale too deeply for fear of gagging on the overwhelming stench of rotten flesh.

"The exit be just up ahead; I be seeing the light now," Shakil replied.

"Well thank the Maker for that," Anders cried out in relief.

"Then we be needing to navigate the nest," Herak said with a chuckle.

"The… nest?" Anders almost squeaked.

"Yes, it be the quickest way to the Mother. There being many Children between us and her though."

Anders groaned.

"We will prevail; do not lose hope, mage," Justice said firmly.

"I haven't lost hope, I know exactly where it is; it's sitting in that big puddle of gunk over there."

"You better pick it up, Anders. We wouldn't want you to leave  _that_  behind; you're always such a  _hopeful_  person," Arietta drawled.

Anders crinkled his nose. "I'd really rather not."

"How is hope being in a puddle?" Shakil asked as he continued to crawl through the slimy tunnel. "Hope be a feeling, feelings not be physical things."

"Now look what you've done," Nathaniel muttered.

"I be wanting a big hug from happiness if so," Shakil mused. "I be thinking that nice."

"Then I be liking to strangle you with despair," Herak growled.

Shakil grunted and then hopped out of the end of the tunnel, holding up his hand to halt their movements in the tunnel. "Patrol," he whispered, tilting his head as he crouched down low, pulling his bow from his back. He fired three arrows in quick succession, and then nodded at them to exit the tunnel too.

Anders clambered out of the tunnel first, and tried to wipe down his leggings and robes, which were absolutely soaked with slime and grime.

"Be going this way now," Shakil whispered as he headed down the dark pathway. They were still underground, but at least things weren't  _quite_  so disgusting out here. They walked past the three dead darkspawn that Shakil had taken out and followed the path as it curved to the left, and then Anders' jaw landed somewhere on the ground as the tunnel opened out before them into a massive chasm. A chasm filled with hundreds of unhatched fleshy pods.

"There are so many," Arietta said, staring at the endless expanse of eggs within the nest.

"We be needing to get to the other side," Herak said gruffly.

"Right, because that won't be difficult at all," Anders retorted.

"If you be shutting your mouth it be easier," Herak shot back.

"Alright, we move quickly and quietly," Arietta ordered. "Stick close together. Let's go."

Arietta crept down the path slowly, watching the nearby pods as they twitched and rocked, her stomach sitting in her throat. It would be just their luck for this nest to hatch as they were sneaking through it. They just needed to get to the other side and kill the Mother. It would be fine, she reassured herself.

The ground below her feet was spongy and squelched with each step, making her wince as she passed more of the unhatched Children. She could see them inside their eggs, shifting, the fluid around them a dark red, illuminated by the torch light on the walls behind them. Occasionally the unborn creatures would shift and she would see their profile - those massive heads and the three pronged jaws and horrible clawed arms. She shuddered, and then decided to keep her head low, watching the ground instead.

It was as they got to the half-way point that the ground suddenly began to tremble. They all stopped, trying to keep their footing.

"What was that?" Anders asked as he used his staff to balance himself.

"The Mother be knowing we are here," Herak said. "Be needing to move.  _Now_."

Arietta broke into a sprint, uncertain where she needed to run to, but assuming the wall on the other side of the chasm was as good of a direction as any to head in. And then a tentacle erupted out of the ground in front of her and she had to roll to the side as it tried to grab at her. More tentacles thrust upwards, blocking their way, forcing them to veer right instead of carrying on straight ahead.

And then the Children began hatching.

"Maker's Breath!" Anders cried as he sent a blast of ice at one that was about to tackle him.

"Just keep moving!" Arietta cried as she took a sharp turn, Herak and Shakil at her heels, but more tentacles tore through the ground behind her, blocking her Wardens from following. "Go around!" she ordered to their wide-eyed faces.

Anders took to a sprint, charging down another small pathway lined with yet more moving pods. The creatures began to hatch around them, and Nathaniel began firing arrows into them as Justice and Anders led the way through the maze of eggs, desperately trying to meet back up with Arietta.

More tentacles blocked Arietta's path and she cursed as she turned again, jabbing her dagger deep into the fleshy head of one of the hatchlings in her way. Shakil unleashed arrows and Herak stayed close at her side as they navigated their way through the nest. All around her she could hear the horrible rush of fluid as more pods cracked open and the creatures poured out, hissing as they sucked air into their lungs for the first time, and the scuttling footsteps as they gave chase.

Arietta rounded another corner, ducking past more of the vile creatures still trying to get their bearings. Another of the Children came at her and she slid her daggers across its legs, crippling it, and then carried on running, not looking back.

She charged into a clearing, the tunnel –their way out- visible just ahead, but entirely blocked by tentacles and Children. She was panting hard, gripping her daggers tightly in her hands, and it was only as she swirled around to check behind her that she realised that the darkspawn were no longer at her side.

"Shit," she muttered. She wasn't sure if she had just lost them or… or if they had left her to run into this clearing for a reason. A trap, that was her first thought, this entire thing had been a bloody trap, one she had walked straight into. There probably wasn't even a dragon guarding the main entrance, and now she was in the heart of the nest… surrounded and alone.

Anders suddenly charged into the clearing with Justice and Nathaniel right behind him and she sighed in relief. But her relief was short lived when more tentacles rose up behind them, sealing them in.

"What happened to the darkspawn?" Nathaniel breathlessly asked.

Arietta shook her head. "I don't know. I think…" She squeezed her eyes shut. "I think this was a trap."

Anders ran his fingers through his hair as he looked around for a way out, but they were totally surrounded, those thick slimy tentacles swaying from side to side as they loomed over them, blocking their escape.

"Then we need to figure out something, and fast," Nathaniel said in a rush.

"I'm open to ideas," Arietta replied briskly, as she stared out into the army of Children now waiting just beyond those tentacles to attack.

The Children started to screech to Arietta's right, and then suddenly Herak was back, hacking into one of the tentacles; the slimly limb retreated back into the earth and Herak walked forward, smiling smugly.

"Be suggesting a barrier now."

She frowned, holding her daggers at the hurlock. "Why?"

" _That_  be why," Herak said as he pointed to a ledge high above them, near the exit. The Architect was standing at the edge, arms outstretched, fire licking at his fingertips.

"Ah," Anders said, before he cast a bright white barrier over them all.

Arietta watched as the Architect's fire rained down around them; the fire balls smashed into the ground, shaking the entire nest, killing dozens of the Children. But it was what happened next that shocked her; the entire nest ignited, the flames rolling across the ground as if everything was flammable, even though she was quite certain it shouldn't be. The air was filled with the sounds of the dying screams of the Children as they slowly burned alive; their screeches echoed around the large chasm in an ear piercing cacophony. Most of them tried to flee as flames licked across their fleshy skin; others scrabbled and clawed at the barrier, desperate to get inside of its protection, their claws making her shiver as they scraped down the outside of the bright white dome.

It was a long few moments before the flames finally died and they all looked out at the now empty and very charred chasm. A few stragglers were left alive but arrows soon took them down, and Arietta turned to see Shakil standing at the exit, now clear of darkspawn and tentacles. Anders dropped his barrier, his brow covered in sweat from keeping such a thing up for so long.

"You didn't betray us," Arietta said softly to Herak.

"Ha! Is that what you be thinking? We be uncorking the oil we placed earlier."

"You could have mentioned that part of the plan, you know," Arietta chided.

Herak snorted. "We be hoping it not necessary, that the Mother not be hearing us coming. I be thinking she heard this one's complaining," Herak said, pointing a spiked gauntlet at Anders.

"That was hardly my fault! Who thinks taking a 'short cut' through a fucking  _nest_  is a good idea?"

"The ones who be knowing about the guard-dragon outside," Herak shot back.

"Anyway!" Arietta interrupted. "How about we get out of here?"

"An excellent idea," Nathaniel muttered and Justice nodded his head in agreement.

They crossed the blackened ground, trying not to inhale too much of the still-smoking corpse stench, and finally reached the exit where Shakil waited. He dipped his head in greeting and Arietta smiled, then followed him through the next set of tunnels. She could feel the Architect nearby, moving in the same direction as they were. This was going to be the moment she needed to decide what to do - whether she would kill him or let him live. Neri had been sure that she would know what to do when the time came, but it was just moments before she would meet him again and she still wasn't certain.

It seemed wrong to kill the darkspawn that had helped her, these human-like creatures that had reluctantly made her smile, made her see their race in an entirely new light, and she did not doubt that she would have to kill them if she went against the Architect. And then there was the emissary himself. She believed him to be well-intentioned, but there were so many unknowns, and the darkspawn were still learning and prone to making mistakes, which made them a big risk.

Arietta tried to weigh up the advantages and disadvantages, the biggest being the fact that it could stop Blights, stop the endless war with darkspawn if she sided with the Architect. It could also mean a cure for Wardens… or it could create an army of intelligent darkspawn more dangerous than any Blight and lead to the extinction of the Wardens entirely should these darkspawn take Wardens for their blood. There was also the fact that darkspawn couldn't reproduce without taking women of other races… she would need to put a stop to that, at least with these intelligent ones, if she was going to work with the Architect going forward.

The Architect came into view just ahead of them, standing with Utha and Seranni. He greeted her with a bow, and she nodded back in kind. She realised that her decision was based entirely on trust. Did she believe the Architect? Did she trust him? And she realised that, as she stood in front of him while he towered over her, breathing raggedly as he always did, that her hands were nowhere near her daggers, that her posture was relaxed, that she didn't see any of them as a threat. She saw them as people –hence why she had started to refer to the Architect and the sentient darkspawn as 'he'; she no longer saw them as monsters.

"Commander, I am glad you are well," the Architect said genuinely.

"Thank you for the assist," she said politely.

He nodded. "Of course. I said we were allies in this; I meant it."

"Allies…" She sighed, rubbing her temple. "If we are to really do this… If I am going to let you live, then I need assurances."

"I assure you, Commander, I want no war with your kind, only to research in peace, to help my brethren as best I can. Your Second's blood is a gift I do not intend to squander."

Arietta nodded. "I don't trust you, not completely, but you have been true to your word so far, so I will trust in that." She swallowed thickly, hoping to the Maker that this wouldn't be a mistake. "We have an accord."

"And I am pleased to hear it." The Architect turned. "Come, the Mother is not far now."

Arietta fell into step behind the emissary, and her Wardens behind her, all of them staying close together, hands on their weapons.

"I trust Herak and Shakil were good guides," the Architect said. She looked up at him incredulously; was he really making small talk?

"They were. The nest was a little… unsavoury, but a part from that it has been an enlightening trip."

"That is good to hear. It is that same sense of enlightenment that I wish to bring to the rest of my kind."

"Yes, I know. It's good, what you're doing, but I still worry."

"I fear it will take much for my kind to be seen as anything but killers by yours," he sighed, "but I thank you for your support now, Commander."

She smiled up at him. "It's a tentative first step. Maker knows something needs to change; the cycle  _cannot_  continue."

"It is my wish to break it. As it is, there will be two more Blights, and after that… if the darkspawn cannot be reasoned with, they could swarm up to the surface over and over, out of control and unruly, mad and lost without purpose. It would be impossible for your kind to flourish and develop further under such conditions, and those of my kind that are free would struggle to survive while warring with their maddened brethren. It will take time to break the cycle, however, but stopping the Mother will help."

Arietta nodded. "Any idea just what we will be facing when we reach her?"

"A great many darkspawn still remain in your way. But kill the Mother and they will break - just like killing the Archdemon ends the Blight."

"I trust you won't be 'freeing' any more Broodmothers in future?"

The Architect let out a wheezy laugh. "No, that is a mistake I shall not repeat."

"Glad to hear it."

"I will not be able to fight the Mother directly however; my magic is better from afar," the Architect rasped out as they walked down a long tunnel. "Kill her quickly, if you can, before more of the Children can be called to her defence; I will do all I can to aid you." He stopped walking and looked down at her. "This is where we part ways, for now."

"Very well." She dipped her head to him and he bowed.

"Herak and Shakil will remain with you for the fight and then see you safely back to your Keep. I wish you luck, Commander."

Arietta watched him leave and then took a deep breath. Herak slapped her on the back, making her wince, and then he grinned down at her. "Do not be fearing; we will be protecting your squishy selves from the Children tackling you and ripping out your insides."

"I feel so much better now, thank you."

They all continued down the long corridor, the air acrid with the stink of sulphur, the walls black and tainted and the ground slimy, a thick layer of red goo coating it. Up ahead, Arietta could feel the darkspawn, feel them gathering, ready to defend the Mother. They might have killed the Children, or most of them, but there was still a small army of darkspawn between them and her.

And that army became visible once they reached the end of the tunnel. The cavern was vast, its roof high; a fog covered much of the mushy ground, and there was a slight slope leading up to where the Mother sat in the centre of her lair. She was surrounded by darkspawn and the Children. The creatures let out loud cries, banging their weapons together and stomping their feet, ready for war, but the Mother silenced them, lifting a clawed black hand, and the creatures parted enough for Arietta and her Wardens to walk forward a little.

The Mother lifted her head, tilting it slightly as she looked upon their small group.

"Wardens and darkspawn working together, the instruments of the Father," she croaked, her lips twisting into a sneer. "But the Father is but a shadow, oh how the Children protect me, how they  _love_  me," she rambled on.

A spectre of the Architect appeared at Arietta's side, the image of him shaking his head. "I have told you many times, Mother, I am not the Father; I am simply the Architect."

"It does not change what you are!" the Mother screeched as her body sloshed and swayed. "You took away the beautiful music, left us with nothing," she growled, bitterness lacing her every word.

"It was a mistake to free you; it has left you with madness. I am truly sorry," the Architect replied with a sigh.

"There's no point apologising to her; she's insane," Arietta muttered to him.

"Ahh, but perhaps the Warden would like to know how it was that the Father began the Blight," the Mother cooed menacingly. Arietta's stomach tightened at that, and she turned to frown at the Architect's visage; he closed his eyes, head bowed, and she immediately knew the Mother was not lying. "You want the source of the Archdemon, the one who brought all of our kind to the surface? Here he is!" she yelled, her spider-like hands pointing long-taloned fingers at the Architect.

Arietta took a step toward the Architect, her hand on her dagger despite him not actually being at her side. " _You_  started the Blight?" she hissed. "Why?"

He sighed. "Not why, Commander, but how." He turned to look at her. "I found the Old God, Urthemiel. I wanted to free him without turning him into an Archdemon. A Blight was the last thing I wished. Alas, I was unlucky; the Joining Ritual I tried failed."

" _Unlucky?"_  Arietta spat incredulously. "You started a Blight!"

"Is it not the way of the Grey Wardens to do what must be done in the name of combatting the Blight?" he asked her. "The Blight is a menace, both for your people and mine. To end it requires sacrifice and risk; that is why you allied with me, is it not?"

She clenched her teeth.

"Starting a Blight seems a  _tad_  detrimental to that cause though," Anders sniped.

Arietta sighed. "How many 'mistakes' are you going to make? By my count this is three, now, all with grave consequences. You play with things you clearly do not understand." She shook her head. "You're dangerous," she said under her breath as she looked away.

"And how lonely the Father was! How terrible to be the outcast, the  _outsider_ ," the Mother jeered in her high pitched drawl. "He claims he wished the darkspawn to be free, but what he truly wants is to correct them."

"That not being true," Herak growled. "We be free and you be too mad to see it for the gift it is."

"Is the Mother mad to wish the beautiful music back? To want to hear it again? Now the Mother hears only silence, endless  _agonising_  silence. We know it is still there, but we have been denied its melody by the Father!"

"That song not be beautiful. It be enslaving, controlling, overwhelming all," Shakil argued. "There be much beauty to be found if you be using your eyes instead of searching for the song."

"The song gave purpose. The Father twists you, makes you think you are capable of more, but he is  _wrong_ ; the Mother served the Old Gods, always the Old Gods, but now she serves no more!" The Mother clawed at her face. "It is wrong, so very wrong," she wailed.

"Commander, however you feel about what I have done, the Mother is mad. She cannot be allowed to live," the Architect urged.

Arietta drew her daggers. "I am aware."

"Be gone, shadow!" the Mother cried, dispersing the Architect's magical apparition. "You cannot hurt the Mother any more than you already have," she sobbed. "And now the Hero is alone. The Mother knows your ways; you will not let her be, no, not after what she's done. So it must end. It must all come crashing down!" she screamed manically as her body shook violently. "Perhaps we will hear the song again when we die. Oh, let it come. Let it come!" She let out a blood curdling scream; her lips splitting wide open to reveal her black, tainted mouth.

The darkspawn all charged forward, but Arietta didn't have to give out any orders; her Wardens, and even the two darkspawn, knew exactly what to do. Anders coated the moist ground in ice so that the approaching darkspawn all slipped and skidded as they advanced toward their group. Arietta took advantage, cutting a falling hurlock across the throat before burying her blade in a genlock's temple as it skidded into her. Nathaniel and Shakil began firing arrows into the army, taking down targets that had avoided Anders' ice, and Herak and Justice charged forward, fighting the darkspawn head on, drawing most of the creatures to them so that Arietta could slip around and attack from behind.

Fire began to rain down from a ledge high above them, and she knew it was the Architect lending them help once more. The massive fire balls slammed into the ground, incinerating darkspawn and knocking others down, ready for her to finish off. She realised that the emissary was slowly cutting them a path toward the Mother, and her companions took full advantage of that. Anders threw down some glyphs of repulsion so that the path of burning corpses stayed open, and Justice and Herak fought the darkspawn on either side of the path while Shakil and Nathaniel stayed back, covering her. Arietta charged up the path, cutting down anything the others missed, with Anders close behind her.

They reached the Mother as the rest of her group held back the army. The Mother cackled manically at them before those disgusting slimy tentacles of hers erupted out of the ground and tried to grab at them; Anders dodged one way and Arietta the other. She stabbed her blades into a slimy limb just as Anders set another on fire. More limbs burst out of the ground and Arietta danced between them, slicing with her daggers and occasionally throwing down a flask of acid or Antivan fire. Anders kept them protected with barriers as he too dodged and ducked between the fleshy pink appendages, spells flying from his fingers, the blade of his staff digging deep into the thick flesh of the Mother's attacking limbs.

Slowly but surely, they cut down the limbs until Arietta had an opening. She charged forward, only to get tackled hard into the ground, her breath knocked out of her lungs. She sneered at the darkspawn that had landed on top of her.

"Be waiting," Herak hissed.

"Why?" she said, frowning.

The Mother took that moment to throw up, a thick blackish-green bile pouring out of her opened mouth, hissing and bubbling as it hit the ground. If Arietta had taken that moment to attack the Mother, she would have been turned into a puddle. She looked back to Herak with a nod of thanks, and then glanced at her Wardens; they were all standing on the hill with her, still fighting the darkspawn army on one side and the Mother's tentacles on the other. They needed to end the Mother quickly, before they were overwhelmed.

"What's the plan, exactly?" Anders asked, shouting over the clash of metal and deafening raucous of the darkspawn.

"I'm thinking!" Arietta replied as she joined them in the fight once more.

The ground around the Mother was still spitting and bubbling thanks to the puddle of acid around her, and her tentacles were protecting much of her body, especially her head as they swayed in front of her, only moving out of the way briefly when she was about to vomit at them again. It meant that arrows probably wouldn't be able to take her down, although that wasn't for lack of trying; both Nathaniel and Shakil had already peppered her flabby torso and tentacles with arrows in an attempt to injure her, but still the Mother wailed and cackled, screaming to the heavens. And every time she did, more darkspawn poured in through the tunnels; the Architect was still assisting, but it was clear his mana was getting low by the weakening of the fireballs hitting the ground.

"Remember the inferno golem?" Arietta asked Justice and Anders.

"How could I forget?" Anders droned.

Arietta smirked. "Get ready for round two. The rest of you keep fighting those darkspawn!"

They continued cutting down the tentacles, Justice moving ever closer to the Mother until he was fighting at the very edge of the acidic puddle. This time when the Mother's tentacles moved to the side for her to spew out more vomit, Justice dropped to the ground, holding his shield over his head; Anders unleashed an ice spell just as Arietta ran and jumped onto Justice's shield. He shoved her up through the air, and the acidic vomit froze in place as Anders' blast of cool air reached it, and then Arietta was crashing down onto the Mother's surprised head, her daggers sliding into the creature's reddened eyes. The Mother stilled beneath her, her massive body sagging; Arietta yanked her daggers free and Justice caught her before putting her safely back on the ground.

Arietta sighed in relief, thanking him, and then watched as the darkspawn army her companions were still fighting all panicked and began to scatter, hopefully heading back underground where they belonged. Shakil and Nathaniel sent a few fiery arrows at the stragglers as Herak charged down the hill, holding his sword above his head in order to see the last remaining darkspawn flee.

She looked proudly at her Wardens. "Good job everyone," she said as she squeezed Anders' shoulder and gave Nathaniel and Justice a thankful smile.

"Thank you Commander, for letting me assist," Nathaniel said sincerely.

"I will make sure people know that you played no small part in ending the threat that was the Mother, Nathaniel."

He nodded his thanks.

"So… does this mean we can go home now?" Anders asked as he strapped his staff to his back.

She sheathed her daggers and nodded. "There are a few things we need to check up on first… but then yes, we can go home."

"By check up on, do you mean the Architect?" Justice asked. "He has made mistakes, but they were well intentioned; he should not die for that, Commander."

"Doesn't he?" She sighed. "I'm more torn than ever."

She sheathed her daggers and headed back down the hill, through the now empty cavern. Herak and Shakil were waiting at the bottom having chased off all of their brethren.

"Still coming with us?" she asked Herak and Shakil.

Herak nodded. "Be wanting to see if Tethar and Dular yet live. Then we be leaving."

"Right. I don't suppose you have an update on my Keep and my Wardens?"

"None. Be needing to see for ourselves," Shakil answered.

"Very well then. Lead us out of here."

Anders groaned. "Are we going to have to use that 'shortcut' again?"

Herak grunted. "There still being a dragon outside, but it be your choice, mage."

Anders sighed but reluctantly followed the darkspawn back through the tunnels. Arietta found herself wishing the darkspawn would walk faster; she desperately wanted to get back to Vigil's Keep to check on everyone. She hoped that killing the Mother would have resulted in the darkspawn fleeing on the surface as well, but she wouldn't know until she got back there, and that wouldn't be for hours yet.

To her surprise, the Architect was waiting for them once more. He opened his mouth to talk but she cut him off.

"You started the Blight. You freed the Mother. You attacked my Keep and took my Wardens," Arietta spat at him, her hands resting on the pommels of her daggers. "With the Mother now dead, our alliance is over, so give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now for being such a fucking liability."

The Architect tilted his head and let out a long wheezy sigh. "Because, despite my mistakes, despite the fact that there is much I have yet to learn about your kind, my intentions are good and I am your best chance to see the cycle of Blights ended. You are not yet ready to give up hope for such a thing, and that is why you will not kill me now."

She gripped her daggers tighter then took a steadying breath and let her arms fall back to her sides. "Maybe you're not as bad at understanding some of us as you think," she grudgingly acknowledged. "You're not wrong, but consider this your final chance. Mess up again and I  _will_  kill you. Understood?"

The Architect nodded. "As your kind says, Commander, crystal clear."

She smiled slightly. "I will give you Warden blood, with it you may create more intelligent darkspawn, but I also expect you to look into a cure for  _us_. Do that, and it will be easier to convince others to join the Wardens, that will mean you have a steady supply of our blood. Are these acceptable terms?"

He nodded. "They are, Commander."

"I do have one condition, however."

"Yes?"

"Your intelligent darkspawn cannot take females and turn them into Broodmothers. I will not permit reproduction of any kind among your freed brethren. You can take the darkspawn that already exist and put them through your Joining Ritual, but I will not have you create more darkspawn using our women. If you succeed in stopping the Blights -the plague upon your kind- then your population will be stable, so long as you keep away from surfacers."

"And can you guarantee that surfacers will stay away from my kind?"

She sighed slightly. "I cannot, no. But for now, you are hardly in danger of becoming extinct, are you? Perhaps in time, you will figure out another way to reproduce that doesn't rely on other races. Until then, you will have to make do without Broodmothers."

"Very well."

"We can arrange regular meetings to discuss progress and to give you more of our blood."

"Does that blood include your Second's?" he asked, head tilted slightly.

"I won't be  _taking_  any of my Warden's blood; it will have to be freely given… so that is up to her."

He gave a slight dip of his head. "Then we have an accord, Commander." He gave her his hand, and she shook it, her hand tiny in his.

"Good," she said with a small smile, before she walked past him, walking back through the tunnels toward the shortcut and her Wardens and the two darkspawn followed. She still wasn't certain if this was the right decision, and damn him for being right, but after everything they had been through, she needed hope, needed to believe that things could get better even if that meant trusting an old blood mage and a talking darkspawn to do so.


	52. Bollocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back, for a bit, there will probably be another delay as I am stuck playing the Witcher 3 atm so writing simply isn't happening. Thanks as always to Lys for betaing! And to those who continue to comment, love you all <3

Neri scrunched her nose up at the musty stench that seemed to cling to the thick, itchy blanket that had been draped over her. She opened her eyes, squinting slightly at the bright light pouring in through her window. She yawned a little, covering her mouth with her hand, and then shoved the uncomfortable blanket away. She sighed as she noticed the thick bandages on her hand and arm; no doubt she had yet more scars lying underneath now. She winced slightly as she moved her leg, the gash from the poisoned blade still not fully healed; her head ached too, making her feel a bit dizzy as she sat up, but at least her veins didn't feel like they were on fire anymore.

Her memory of the fight was… hazy at best, however. She remembered being carried by Tethar, and then agreeing to use blood magic with Alistair. The Wardens had been fighting around her as she cast, keeping her safe until her spell was ready. She could remember the whispers at the edge of her mind as well, the voices and the words she couldn't quite hear. She remembered killing the darkspawn, sending out that blast of magic, but then… nothing. Had she passed out afterwards?

Neri stretched her legs, and Barkspawn shifted at the bottom of her bed, yawning as he looked up at her. She smiled at him, glad that he was okay, hoping that the same could be said for everyone else too. She climbed out of bed, gritting her teeth as her leg throbbed painfully, before she hobbled across to her dresser, grabbed some clothes and then slipped into them. Barkspawn sat up, panting happily with his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, and she stroked his head, grinning as he nuzzled into her touch.

"I guess we should go check on everyone, huh boy?"

Just then the door opened, for a brief moment she hoped it was Anders or Arietta back from the Mother's lair; instead she found herself stunned, staring dumbly as Tethar walked into her room and then gently closed the door – using the door-handle and everything – behind him.

"Umm, hi?" she said, still staring a little dazedly at the intruder.

Tethar pulled back his hood, his characteristic grin spreading across his face. "Be good that you awaken," he said, voice gruff as always.

She stared at him blankly as he began to wander around her room, looking through her things. "How did you – who let you in here?" she managed to ask, getting her brain and mouth to work properly at last.

He looked at her, head tilted slightly. "No one. Be sneaking in to see you."

"You  _snuck_  in?" she practically laughed out loud.

His brow lowered into a frown as he watched her, head tilting like a dog's would when confused. "Why that be funny?"

"Well, you're not the most inconspicuous of creatures, are you?"

The darkspawn chuckled. "That being very true."

He went back to looking through her things and she hugged her arms close to her body, holding onto the robe wrapped snug around her. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of a darkspawn simply being able to waltz into her room. If she had been asleep, it would have been easy for him to kill her, not that she thought he would… but still.

"Was there something you wanted?" she prompted when he began rummaging through her underwear drawer.

He lifted up one of her silk thongs, and her eyes widened; she lunged at him to snatch it away from him, but he pulled the garment away from her grabbing fingers, and she smacked into the dresser instead, yelping in pain.

"What this be for?" he asked, sniffing her panties.

"Tethar!" she wailed, grabbing for the garment again, and succeeding this time. "They're underwear!  _Sexy_  underwear!"

She stuffed the thong back in her drawer, glaring at him as he watched her, a smirk on his face. "That mage of yours be liking those?"

Neri groaned, rubbing her forehead. "Yes, not that it's any of your business."

"Surfacers very strange," he said as he moved away from her dresser to gaze out of the window.

She folded her arms, frowning. "Why are you here?" she asked again.

The darkspawn let out a huff of air through his nose. "Be wanting to check on you, is all," he replied, not looking at her.

"Oh," she said, as she watched his back. He turned back around to her, the red sash around his waist swishing with his movements.

"Been a while since the inked one healed you," he explained.

"You mean Velanna," she corrected, and Tethar waved his hand dismissively. "Do you know if we lost anybody, any Wardens?"

He shook his head, "No. You all be living."

She let out a relieved breath, smiling a little. "That's good. And, uhh, Dular is well too?"

The edges of Tethar's dark eyes seemed to crinkle in amusement. "Yes. He being outside, helping with the outer wall."

"Really?" She couldn't picture a darkspawn doing manual labour, but she supposed stranger things had happened, like a darkspawn sniffing her thong.

"Yes, we be waiting, just as you be waiting, for the others to return. Might as well be helping in the meantime. And Dular be very good at lifting things."

"I figured he would rather knock stuff down that put them back up, though."

Tethar shrugged an armoured shoulder. "He be liking to show off too. Be lifting more than any other here."

"Ah, of course."

Tethar picked up one of the books on her bedside table, with an almost sad expression on his face - one she assumed was there because he couldn't actually read the words on the pages he was flicking through.

"So, how long have I been asleep for?"

"One sun cycle," he said as he opened up the book Raf and Max had gifted her. A frown formed on his face as he flicked to a random page in the middle of the book; he turned it upside down and then sideways, trying to understand the diagram on the page. And then his eyes widened; he glanced up at her, tilting his head and then looked back at the page with the most hilarious and adorable look of confusion contorting his features, and Neri laughed out loud.

"That… was a gift," she explained, choking on her laughter. Tethar dumped the book down on her cabinet with a disgusted snort.

"Did not be knowing your squishy bodies could bend like that," he muttered, and she snickered some more.

"So, I've been out a day, but the others aren't back yet?" she asked. She had expected them all back last night if things went smoothly.

"No. They be sending word that all is well but they be stopping in Amaranthine to help."

She leant back against her dresser, frowning. "Why would they need to go there?"

He glanced at her, beady black eyes catching the sunlight streaming in through her window. "Because the horde be coming from the city."

Her mouth fell open as she gaped at him. "There's a Deep Roads entrance  _in_  Amaranthine?"

"Yes."

"Well, shit."

"The Mother be defeated and so be her army," he said as he moved closer to her, still looking through some of her things. "They just be cleaning up there."

She ran her hands through her messy locks, feeling a bump at the back of her head, and she frowned. Had she hit her head when she passed out? "Just how did the fight end, exactly?" she asked the darkspawn.

Tethar stilled, and then slowly turned to look over his shoulder at her. "You not be remembering?"

She felt a shiver travel down her spine, making her straighten and move away from the dresser. "After my spell, no, I don't remember a thing. Did I pass out?"

Tethar let out a ragged breath that she was certain was half a laugh. "The darkspawn fled, not because the Mother be dead or because your magic be killing so many, but because you be telling them to go."

She pushed her hair away from her face, scowling. "What are you talking about?"

"Dular and I be feeling it too, it be very strong," he added as he rolled his shoulders.

"I don't understand," she mumbled, frowning at him.

Tethar let out another hiss of air through his nose and then stalked toward her, staring down at her, his gaze fixed on hers, making her heart pound in her chest with the intensity of that look. " _You_  be telling them to flee and they be listening," he explained.

Her eyes widened briefly before she frowned once more, shaking her head. "But that's not – how would I…" She turned quickly, staring out of the window as she tried to get her pounding heart to calm. She could see the yard from the window, could see the fields beyond, black with the blood of darkspawn, dried from the high sun, evidence of her spell stretching out as far as she could see. As she had cast that spell, she  _had_  been hoping the darkspawn would all flee, but that wasn't a  _command!_  She couldn't do that, could she? The idea terrified her, and she had to look away from the window again. Tethar was watching her, head tilted, his features soft, almost sympathetic looking, if that were at all possible.

"I not be understanding fully either," he said quietly. "But be knowing one thing."

She glanced up at him, holding her breath in the pause that seemed to drag on for an eternity.

"Be sounding like the Old Gods to me."

Her breath left her in a shaky rush, and she whirled back around, grabbing hold of the windowsill to steady herself. All she could think of was Morrigan's ritual, that Maker-forsaken fucking ritual. What had it done? Done to her? Why was all of this happening? She'd only ever wanted to save her friends. She squeezed her eyes shut, her breath still coming in panicked panting. She needed to calm down, needed to think about anything but this, needed a distraction.

She stood back up, forcing a smile across her lips as she always did when she was internally freaking the fuck out, and then bent down and pulled out a book from her bedside cabinet. "You don't read or write, yet," she said to Tethar as he watched her, giving her a slight nod in response. "But the Architect will teach you?"

"It be the plan, yes. We be wanting to learn."

"Good. In that case… when you do finally learn, you can use this," she said as she passed him the book.

He took it from her, his sharp gauntlets scraping lightly over the cover as he examined it. He flicked the book open, skimming through the pages and blinked in confusion. "There be no writing."

"That's because  _you_  will write in it. It's a journal."

Tethar's head lifted to look at her, eyes wide with surprise.

She smiled, a weak and watery smile with the amount of emotion still roiling through her body. "You can draw to start with, or heck, even event your own language. Fill it with stuff you like or think is important or just use it to practice your writing. I dunno. But I doubt you'll find much paper in the Deep Roads, so it's yours."

Tethar closed the journal, holding it like it was something precious that would break, and then he pulled her in for a hug; she expected him to squeeze her like he had on the road, but he didn't, he just held her. "Thank you," he whispered against her ear, before pulling back, clearing his throat roughly, making her smile.

"No, thank you. You saved my ass out there. And, well, you've changed how I see darkspawn."

He dipped his head. "I be glad we met…Neri," he said, over enunciating her name.

Her smile broadened. "And I you, Tethar, Fire Bringer, Blood of Surana."

He grinned.

"I should go check on everyone else," she said, as she headed to the door. "I will see you later. And thank you for checking in on me, seeing as everyone else was too busy to, I guess." She put her hand on the door-handle, but stopped dead in her tracks when he spoke again.

"Oh, not be too busy, be too scared."

Her breath hitched, and she very slowly turned back around, swallowing thickly. "…Why?" she whispered, not wanting to hear the answer.

Tethar ran his gauntleted talons over the back of his head. "You not be… yourself after the battle, after your spell. Be trying to hurt the others."

" _What?"_  she blurted, actually staggering forward with her shock.

"They be fine, just uncertain. I be seeing it in the whites of their eyes."

She could feel tears pricking her eyes and she leaned back against the door, hands trembling as she ran them down her face. "I don't remember any of that…"

"Perhaps it be best if you be speaking with them about it."

She nodded numbly, opening the door for him; he left with a dip of his head, pulling his hood back up as he did so. She closed the door behind her, slumping against it again. She didn't understand how she had lost control, why she would ever try to hurt her friends. It didn't make any fucking sense. She took a deep breath, and then got to her feet and pulled her door open in a rush, fleeing from her chambers only to bump straight into Alistair as she rounded the corner.

"Ah, Neri! You're awake," he said, voice higher than usual as he took a step back from her, rubbing his wrist slightly.

Tethar hadn't been wrong about them fearing her, and that made her chest tighten. "Bloody balls; were you one of the ones I tried to hurt?"

"You don't remember?" Alistair asked wearily. "Of course you don't. You weren't yourself…" He swallowed, running a hand through his sandy hair. "You tried to hurt me and Olivia, but Rafael knocked you out before you could do any real damage."

Her stomach clenched, knotting tightly. "Well, that explains the bump on my head," she said lightly, trying for humour.

Alistair just gave her a guilty looking smile in return. "Yeah, sorry about that, but you weren't listening to any of us."

She rubbed at the bandages on her arm, eyes downcast. "What exactly did I do?" she asked quietly, uncertain if she even wanted to hear the answer.

Alistair sighed. "You… tried to pull the blood out of Olivia's veins." Neri's eyes widened at that. She had thought that she and Olivia were finally over their animosity; she could kiss that idea goodbye now. "And then you attacked me when I tried to stop you. But we're fine, we stopped you."

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "You shouldn't have had to stop me," she muttered bitterly.

"Do… do you have any idea what made you turn on us like that? Everybody's been pretty freaked out. I've kept them busy, and away from you, but..."

"Oh, fine job you did there, Your Majesty," she snarked.

He arched a brow in surprise. "Hey now, that was sarcasm, wasn't it? I happen to be very good at detecting it."

She rolled her eyes. "Tethar found his way into my room, unimpeded."

"What? Really?" Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. It's been hectic here."

"It's fine. He didn't want to assassinate me."

"Good." Alistair smiled slightly, the teasing kind that made his eyes sparkle. "It does seem rather attached to you. It was calling you Mother as it carried you back to the Keep."

She let out an exasperated groan.

Alistair's teasing smile stretched into a smirk. "Maybe it's payback for bringing up Alismount."

Neri snorted. "Did Arietta question you on it?"

"No, fortunately. I think she was a bit distracted."

She nodded and then stared at her feet, biting her lip, before she looked back up into his hazel eyes. "I'm sorry I attacked you," she said in a rush. "Blood magic, it – it is so easy to lose yourself in it, and I-"

"It's okay, Neri. Just… will you tell me one thing?" She nodded, staring up at him, eyes teary. His shoulders sagged slightly. "Have you made a deal with a demon? Is that what that was out there?"

"What? No! Andraste's tits, Alistair. No it was…" She sighed, frowning. "I think using Morrigan's ritual did something to me. Something  _more_  to me."

"More than reducing your life expectancy, you mean? Arietta told me."

She nodded and he sucked in a deep breath before releasing it in a rush. "Look, until we know more, I don't think you should use blood magic again, and definitely not a spell that powerful."

"Yeah… I'll try not to," she mumbled.

He shook his head, moving closer to her, his hands coming up to hold her shoulders. "That's not enough. I need you to promise me you won't use it again, Neri. If you lose control again… it might not be a pommel to the head striking you down," he said gravely.

She looked up at him meekly, nodding slightly. "I won't, I promise."

His lip twitched into a smile, he nodded and then drew back. "Good. That's good."

"I know Lenny was badly hurt, but was anyone else?" she asked.

"Mm. Max got roughed up by an ogre, so did Varel, but they'll both make a full recovery."

She nodded. "And any news on when the others will be back?"

He shook his head slightly, "No, the message on the bird just said she was going to do all she could to help."

"Typical Arietta then," Neri mused.

Alistair smiled. "Indeed."

There was an awkward silence between them then; she hated it, the way neither of them knew what to say. Was this how it would be with everyone now?

"So, uhhh, I should probably go and do…kingly things," he said in a rush.

"Right, yeah. And I should check in with the others."

They both ended up walking in the same direction, down the corridor and laughed. "I'll just go… this way," Alistair said, as he turned left. She went right and reached Lenny and Olivia's door. Not two seconds later Alistair walked past her, blushing. "The stairs are this way," he mumbled, head lowered, making her chuckle.

Neri tapped on Lenny's door; a moment later it opened, revealing Olivia. The warrior gave her a weary look, one seemingly more from tiredness than hostility.

"Hey…" Neri said softly. "How's Lenny doing?"

Olivia glanced over her shoulder at the sleeping form of Lenny, all tucked up in bed, a small smile at her lips. "He'll live, thanks to you," she said as she turned back to face Neri.

Neri gave a small nod in response. "Good."

"He lost a lot of blood, but I've been keeping a close eye on him," Olivia went on to explain, stifling a yawn. Neri nodded. Olivia tucked her hair behind her ears and sighed. "We should talk." She motioned for Neri to back away from the door and Olivia followed her out of the room, pulling the door gently shut behind her.

They were both silent a moment, awkward, neither of them knowing what to say exactly, neither of them knowing what to expect. And Neri figured that things were going to be tense like this with everyone now, but she had to at least try to fix things.

"Look, I'm sorry I… attacked you? I don't remember any of that, but Alistair explained and it sounds bad and I know your history and I just-"

"Neri," Olivia interrupted, lifting her hand. Neri slammed her lips shut, wincing slightly at the inevitable rant Olivia was about to level her with. "I think blood magic is dangerous and addictive and unstable, and when you use it, you are all of those things too. And I  _hate_  that." The muscle in Olivia's square jaw clenched. "But you're not  _just_  a blood mage, and I struggle to remember that sometimes." Neri arched a brow at her and Olivia sighed. "Okay, I struggle to remember that a lot of the time.

"But seeing you out there, risking your life for Lenny, the barrier you cast, it helped remind me that you are a force mage, first and foremost, and that you are my sister as a Warden. We were in a tight spot out there, we all knew we needed you, needed your blood magic, and you did it, no questions asked. Wardens do what they must to stop the darkspawn, and what you did  _was_  necessary, I know that, we  _all_  know that.

"But Maker, Neri, you scared the shit out of us all when you stopped recognising us and carried on with your spell. You had the same glazed over look that my ex had just after he'd slaughtered my entire village," she said shakily. "You're lucky Rafael stopped you when he did, because believe it or not, I didn't  _want_  to have to put a sword through you to stop you. Just, don't ever put us in that situation again, okay?"

Neri swallowed thickly and nodded.

Olivia gave her a small smile. "Are you feeling better, at least?"

"Physically, yes," Neri replied as she rubbed the back of her neck.

Olivia nodded, and then they were silent again, both of them just standing out in the corridor twiddling their thumbs.

"Do you know Elvish?" Olivia asked suddenly, making Neri quirk a brow in confusion. Olivia chuckled. "I wanted to read a few Dalish stories to Lenny while he slept, but my Elvish is terrible."

"Oh, I… know a few words. I could probably read it but I wouldn't know what it means; I never did much care for the Dalish."

"Really?"

"You just figured that because I'm an elf I'm into all of that wilderness stuff, right?"

Olivia blushed slightly. "I suppose it's different growing up in the Circle compared to an Alienage; Lenny was taught much about the Creators, but you would have been taught of the Maker instead."

"Yup. Was even raised in a Chantry before being sent to the Tower. Doesn't mean I care much for the Maker or his bride either though."

"I have to admit, I struggle with it all some days. The things I've seen…" Olivia sighed. "I can't help but wonder how any god could let that happen."

"Yeah, you sure as shit won't see me praying to the Maker in the middle of a fight gone bad for help."

Olivia nodded, rosy cheeks lifting with her smile. "Agreed. Better to rely on yourself, or friends."

Neri nodded and then ruffled her hair, pushing the curls away from her eyes. The awkward silence returned, but it wasn't like their conversation was any better either; this small talk stuff was weird. Honestly, this was probably the longest conversation Neri had ever had with her without things getting heated. Neri almost missed their fighting.

"Would… would you like to come in? I think Lenny would be pleased to see you when he wakes."

"Oh, no, you don't need to… I'll just go, and check in on him later." Neri turned, but Olivia clasped her arm.

"There's a lot of bad blood between us," Olivia said before wincing at her terrible turn of phrase. Neri smirked and Olivia let go of her arm. "But I know Lenny likes you, and he's asked me to try harder with you. So, why don't we try to get back to a clean slate?"

Neri nearly laughed out loud and Olivia continued to blush, clearly cringing at her terrible choice of words.

"That's gonna take a lot of cleaning," Neri replied with a laugh.

Olivia smirked. "I know, but we're both stubborn enough that it might actually be possible." She opened the door again and Neri followed her in.

Lenny was still asleep, and looked quite cute; all his worry lines were gone and his brown hair was all mussed up. Olivia and Neri both settled into chairs next to the bed, and Olivia picked up the book she had obviously been hoping to read to him.

"Velanna gave us it," Olivia explained. "She and Lenny have had quite a few discussions about the Dalish recently. She was teaching him lore and history; I think she misses talking with her clan." Olivia looked down at the book sadly, stroking the cover. "I hope the Commander found her sister while at the lair."

"She probably did. I doubt Seranni has come back with her though; she seemed pretty dead-set on staying with the Architect."

Olivia sighed. "Then I doubt Velanna will remain here for long."

"I figured as much too." Neri sat back in the chair, bringing her legs up to sit cross-legged. "What about you guys? I mean… you came here to help us set things up and stop the darkspawn, so does that mean you're going back to Orlais now?"

"I'm not sure. I think Arietta wishes for me to help run things with Varel while she returns to Denerim. We've certainly had no orders to return to Orlais or to go anywhere else. And leaving now would leave you with just a handful of Wardens yet again; if anything, we should be helping with recruitment." Olivia settled back into the chair, leaning her elbow against the padded armrest. "Lenny and I were talking the other day about it. We ought to check all the major cities, and not just the jail cells either, try to actually get people to volunteer for it, maybe hold a tournament or something. I don't know. We could stop by the Tower as well; maybe recruit some more mages, seeing as you and Anders are thinking about leaving, right?"

"Mm. I figure it's time to go sightseeing." She smiled. "But hey, if you really want more mages, I know someone who might be interested."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, her last few letters to me suggested that she couldn't wait for the new Tower to be finished so that mages would have more freedom. Without a Blight, Warden work isn't so bad, right? She might like it here."

"Things are usually calmer, it's true. And we do need to get our numbers up. I just wish there was a way to make the Joining more survivable. As it is… I always feel awful putting anyone through it."

Neri smiled. "If we're discussing improvements for it, you might want to consider making it taste better too. That shit was foul."

Olivia laughed. "I remember. It took me a week to get rid of the aftertaste."

Neri snickered. "But hey, you could always just have healers and offensive casters at the Keep, and not necessarily make everyone Wardens if you were worried about them not making it."

Olivia nodded thoughtfully. "It's not like we make every soldier a Warden. I think I'll suggest it to the Commander; Lenny and I would certainly love to see more of Ferelden."

Neri smirked. "There's a lot of mud. And everything smells like wet dog, even in summer."

Olivia chuckled. "At least people don't wear those ridiculous masks the Orlesians love so dearly here."

"I have yet to see someone in such a mask. I have heard some pretty ridiculous stories though," Neri said with a grin.

"Am I d-dreaming?" Lenny suddenly asked from the bed, a wonky smile lighting his face.

"Shocking, right?" Neri laughed. "We're not biting each other's heads off for once."

Olivia smiled. "Hello love," she said softly, as she leaned in and kissed Lenny's forehead. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you," he said, as he sat up slowly, wincing a little. He smiled at Olivia before glancing at Neri. "What of y-you, Neri? How are you feeling?"

"I'm a bit achy and a little turned on, so normal really," she replied with a lopsided grin.

Olivia snorted and Lenny's eyes widened, and he swallowed. "That's… good," he murmured back, blushing as he pulled the covers up to his chin, making Neri chuckle.

"I will let you both be, and go see Max and Raf, I think," Neri said as she got back to her feet.

"Don't you have a party to plan?" Olivia asked.

"Balls. You're right! I'm sure Oghren got the booze out already…" She sighed, rubbing her temple. "And then promptly drank it all." The others chuckled. "I'll get it sorted. Will you be joining us?"

Olivia held Lenny's hand, smiling. "Of course. The Commander didn't want the hall short a single seat; we wouldn't want to disappoint her."

Neri grinned. "No, we would not. I'll see you both later then."

It was a longer walk to Rafael and Max's room; they were in the other wing of the Keep, mostly because Rafael had been trying to keep his relationship with Max secret back when they first chose rooms. Now Neri was pretty sure it worked in their favour because they could be as loud as they wanted without fear of anyone else hearing them, seeing as so few people bunked in that part of the Keep.

But she couldn't hear moans or cries of pleasure as she approached the room, and the door was even ajar; she poked her head in, and found Max attempting to get out of bed, a grimace on his face as he clutched his side.

"Should you be doing that?" she asked, as she pushed the door open. She startled Max with her sudden appearance and he let out a yelp of pain as he straightened suddenly.

"No," he laughed out. "But Rafael is in the bath and I wanted to… surprise him."

She rested a hand on her hip, smiling playfully. "Surprise him, huh? What did you have in mind, exactly?"

Max's cheeks flushed. "Well, I  _wanted_  to join him in the bath… but he wasn't having any of that, so I was going to lounge naked on the bed instead."

Neri snickered. " _I_  can help with that."

Max laughed, and then let out a wheezy groan as he plonked himself back down on the edge of the bed. "I doubt Rafael would approve any way."

"With me helping you to undress, or with you undressing at all?"

Max grinned up at her. "Both, probably. I should be resting… " He sighed, looking down at his hands. "As for you, well, I'm not sure he'd want you touching me right now."

The way Max said that, Neri knew it was because of the battle, but she forced a smirk across her lips anyway. "Not one for sharing, then?"

Max gave her a dejected look. "No, he isn't, but I was… talking about the battle, about your blood magic, but you already knew that and just don't want to talk about it, right?"

She let out a long sigh. Apparently her fake smirks weren't going to cut it today; she was too shaken. "I don't know what happened out there; I don't even remember anything after I cast my spell."

"Is that supposed to reassure me? Because it isn't," Max said with a smile that didn't quite touch his eyes.

"I know," she said as she rubbed her neck self-consciously. "It's probably for the best that Raf knocked me out when he did though."

"Agreed," Rafael said from the doorway of the washroom, as he rubbed a towel through his long hair. Neri ran her eyes up him appreciatively, admiring the bared expanse of tanned flesh on show with only a tight towel tied around his waist.

Max snapped his fingers in her face, pulling her from her reverie. "You've got two guys, you don't need another!" he teased.

She laughed, feeling a blush creep up her ears. "We'd never turn you two down though," she said with a wink.

Max's eyes widened a little, and he smirked; his expression fell away however when Rafael –now dressed- cleared his throat. "Were you here for a reason, Neri?" he asked stiffly.

Her shoulders slumped slightly as she sighed. "You're pissed off at me."

Rafael let out a derisive laugh. "I'm angry at myself, actually. I can't believe I actually believed you, let alone so easily.  _Taint_  magic," he laughed again, his lips twisting into a sneer.

She frowned. "Wait, what?"

"You're a blood mage. You made a deal with a demon, right? That's how you cast a spell that powerful, one that could control minds no less, compelling the darkspawn to flee, and that's why you weren't yourself afterwards, why you attacked us."

She shook her head, hands fisting at her sides. "How many times? I never made any deals with any demons!" she growled.

"Then what happened out there? Please,  _do_  enlighten me," Rafael drawled.

"You've clearly made up your mind, will you believe anything I tell you?" she said back, defeated.

"I don't know," Rafael sighed, shoulders slumping slightly.

"Raf… if she says she didn't, then I believe her," Max said softly.

"What other explanation is there though?" Rafael retorted wearily.

Neri sighed, her anger dissipating; she could already tell she had lost whatever trust Rafael had in her. She'd clearly unnerved him enough to make him question everything. But there would be no point trying to explain things, especially when she had no real answers; she didn't want to get into theories about her mimicking old gods and she sure as shit didn't want to think about it being anything  _more_  than that.

"Look, words and thoughts for mages are powerful – it's how we shape and control the Fade, Max can attest to that. I remember thinking while casting that it would be great if the darkspawn just up and fled. I don't know if, or how, that got tangled up in the spell. But even if it did, that doesn't make me a fucking mind-controlling blood mage. And the spell's power? That wasn't an easy spell to cast, in case you didn't notice."

Rafael's face softened a little, but his posture remained tense. "But you didn't recognise us, how do you explain that?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "Blood frenzy? Shit if I know. I never denied that my particular form of blood magic wasn't just as potent or addictive as regular blood magic. It's powerful and deadly, and it's very easy to get caught up in all of that. But I've already promised Alistair not to use it again, so if you're quite done being a dick, I have a party to prepare." She turned toward the door.

Max gave Rafael a pointed looked, and the rogue sighed. "Wait." Neri turned back around, arching a brow at him. "I'm sorry," he said as he ran a hand through his damp curls. "You'd question everything too if you'd seen yourself out there."

"Maybe. But do you really lose trust so easily?"

"Yes," Rafael replied honestly.

She gave him a sad smile. "Because of Percy."

Rafael nodded, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "If a lover can betray me like that… well, anything's possible."

She nodded glumly. "I'll see you both later."

"Hey," Max said from the bed. "If he won't say it, then I will.  _Thank you_." She arched a brow in confusion, and Max smiled, amused. "You saved Lenny,  _and_  everyone else, and destroyed the entire horde! Without you we would have lost, plain and simple." He looked at her, blue eyes locked with her brown and she nodded, smiling.

"He's not wrong," Rafael agreed quietly, offering her a small smile.

"Yeah, well, let's hope we don't need me to do that again any time soon. I've got enough bloody scars on my arm now, thanks."

Max smiled. "You and me both. Look at this!" he said enthusiastically as he pulled down his shirt, revealing his shoulder and the long jagged scar across it. "A hurlock's sword  _cleaved_ through my shoulder,  _w_ ent straight through the bone and everything. You should have heard the crunch!" he said, his voice getting louder and louder with his excitement. "And my screaming, my screaming was definitely louder than the crunch," he added, smiling.

"I'm not surprised you screamed, having a sword stuck inside you  _hurts_ ," Neri replied with a smile.

"Yeah, it really does!  _Then_  I got squeezed by an ogre. An  _ogre_ , Neri! Do you know what that feels like? I'll tell you, it feels like you're being squeezed really hard by an ogre."

She snickered. "Yeah… that's happened to me before too."

Max pouted, his red hair falling over his eyes, obscuring his frown. "Have you been hurt by darkspawn in about every possible way, or what? Cause you're kinda stealing my thunder a bit here."

She laughed. "Right, terribly sorry."

"I think this is my first proper battle scar." He turned to Rafael, grinning. "We should drink to such an occasion. Perhaps my  _extra-special_  brew?"

Rafael rubbed his face, groaning. "Still not drinking it."

Max let out an exasperated and over the top sigh as he flopped back down on the bed, wincing a little thanks to his dramatics.

Neri chuckled as Rafael rolled his eyes. "You realise he's just gonna spike your drink, right?" she asked the rogue.

Rafael smirked. "He can try."

Max laughed from the bed. "You don't think I can slip one past you, ser rogue?"

"Not a chance, Max."

Neri slipped out the door as they continued their playful banter, and headed down the corridor; she still had a party to set up, after all.


	53. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with more... Massive thanks to my dear friend Waffles for help with this one, and to my darling beta, ElyssaCousland for fixing my endless mistakes!

Anders came to a stop on the hill overlooking the valley that surrounded the Keep, and his stomach dropped down to his balls; the entire field was coated in blood.

"Andraste's roasted rump," he muttered.

"I was hoping she wouldn't have needed to go this far," Arietta said quietly.

"Maker, Neri did this? But there's nothing left, no bodies… just blood," Nathaniel commented, eyes wide.

" _Right_ , you weren't there the first time she used her… talents," Anders replied.

"I had heard what she could do…" Nathaniel said, mouth dry as his gaze fell back on the bloodied fields. "Seeing it is quite different, however."

"Yeah," Anders sighed. He looked to Herak and Shakil who were standing quietly next to them; if darkspawn could look queasy, he'd say that's exactly how the two of them looked now.

"I hope she's okay," Arietta murmured, as she began walking down the hill. Anders followed her. "Alistair's letter was brief," she said over her shoulder. "He said there had been no Warden deaths… but little else."

"Well, the Keep's seen better days, that's for sure," Anders pointed out, as a big hole in the outer wall became visible.

Arietta glanced at it, eyes hard, and jaw clenching as she shook her head. "It shouldn't have fallen," she muttered.

"You did everything you could to prepare for this with what little time you had," Nathaniel argued. "And those at the Keep were there willingly."

"He is right, Commander," Justice said. "They knew the risks. Do not feel guilt for lives given willingly to fight the darkness."

"I could have waited. I could have waited a month or more, made the Keep more ready before going to the lair," she answered.

"Then the Mother would have been the one to make the first move, instead of you," Nathaniel reasoned.

"Maybe," she sighed, before trudging on through the battlefield.

Anders followed at her side, taking in the carnage around them. He had thought Amaranthine was bad. On their way back some refugees on the road had told them of the horde that had poured out through the ground just outside of the city; Arietta had immediately known it was the smuggler's cove that the darkspawn had used and had insisted on all of them going to the city to check things over. There had been a lot of wounded, but most of the horde had simply travelled south, rather than staying to attack the city. Nathaniel's sister was thankfully well, and Anders had even checked her over himself to make sure the baby was well too. But  _this_ … there was simply nothing left. He was grateful, however, that it was nothing left of the darkspawn rather than nothing left of the Keep and its inhabitants.

They rounded the corner, following the Keep's outer wall, and Neri and Alistair came into view. A grin spread across Anders' face and he found himself rushing toward her. She was crouched down, touching the ground, her face turned away from his. Alistair was standing behind her, frowning, but he soon heard them all approaching and turned with a bright smile before making a comment to Neri. She looked up then, over her shoulder, and she flashed Anders a grin as she got to her feet. Anders reached her and pulled her into his arms, just as Arietta did the same with Alistair. He spun Neri around, grinning before he kissed her deeply, running his hands through her hair, frowning slightly as he felt a bump on her head: some kind of injury from the battle, he assumed.

They pulled apart, all of them standing in a small circle out in the middle of the blood-soaked fields, with Nathaniel, Justice and the two darkspawn watching on.

"So… we should probably talk," Alistair said, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that Anders found quite endearing; it reminded him of one of the nicer Templars back at the Tower, one that had always been good to Neri.

Arietta sighed, looking weary. "Agreed."

Neri glanced at Nathaniel and the others. "Why don't you all head inside? The party's just getting started in the dining hall."

"You actually arranged a party?" Nathaniel questioned, brow raised ever so slightly.

"Well,  _duh_ ," Neri scoffed. "What else was I gonna do while you all took your sweet time getting back here?" She smirked, but the expression didn't quite reach her eyes, and that made Anders' gut tighten with worry.

Nathaniel smiled, shaking his head.

"Can we be joining the party?" Shakil asked. "Never been to a party before."

"Uhhh." Neri glanced to Arietta but the Commander just shrugged.

"It's  _your_  party, Neri," Arietta said, a smile curving her lips.

"Right… well, I guess you can, if you want to?" Neri frowned a bit. "Can darkspawn even drink?"

"Be finding out soon." Herak chuckled deeply, as he began walking to the gate. Justice, Nathaniel and Shakil followed, leaving Arietta, Anders, Alistair and Neri all in the field.

"I take it the Architect still lives then?" Neri asked once the others were out of earshot.

"He does." Arietta sighed. "I'm not sure it was the right decision though. He's made so many mistakes." Her jaw clenched as her brows lowered into a frown. "He started the Blight."

" _What_?" Neri and Alistair both said in unison.

Arietta closed her eyes, exhaling. "He tried his ritual on the Old God. It failed." She opened her eyes again, the blue clouded and uncertain. "I worry what he will try next… but I couldn't just kill him. Not when he may be our only hope to control the darkspawn, to stop the Blights."

Alistair squeezed her shoulder, offering her a smile. "I think you did the right thing," he glanced at Neri. "I have a feeling we're going to need the Architect."

Neri rolled her eyes, making Anders and Arietta share a worried look. "And Amaranthine is okay?" Neri asked, clearly avoiding the topic of her blood magic.

"It is," Arietta answered. "Anders healed a few people and we checked through the tunnels to make sure there weren't any more darkspawn there before sealing it properly. I should have done it sooner. I knew the smugglers used that cove; I just didn't even consider that darkspawn might find a way to it too."

"At least it's dealt with now; it could have been worse," Alistair said, "I've already sent word to Denerim for assistance here. It's going to take a lot of work to rebuild everything the darkspawn destroyed."

The others nodded and then glanced around at the tainted bloody field. "So, you used blood magic then," Anders commented casually, hoping she would open up about it.

Neri laughed. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

Anders smiled, his nose crinkling a bit.

"What happened, exactly?" Arietta cut in.

Neri gave her a lopsided smile. "Oh you know, the usual… I cut my wrist. Made some darkspawn explode. Saved the day."

Arietta's brows lifted slightly as she levelled a steely gaze at the elf. Neri groaned, rolling her head in exasperation. "Lenny was hurt. I knew I could save him, so I did. But then I got stabbed by a poisoned dagger and things were shit. Olivia of all people saved my ass, along with Tethar. Then Alistair and everyone else came to our rescue too… but that left us all stranded out here, surrounded. Blood magic was our only option."

Neri moved away from them a bit. "I had the blood from every dead darkspawn spinning around me," she said as she pointed at ground, at the rings dug deep into the dirt. "So much power, right at my fingertips; it felt incredible," she murmured. She turned back to face them. "I killed everything," she said, her brow crinkling in a deep frown. "But I don't remember anything after that," she almost whispered.

Anders took a step toward her, a frown of his own on his face. "Because you passed out?"

She shook her head, lifting her hand to run a finger along her newest scar. "No, because I lost control after that."

Arietta looked to her husband, a slightly alarmed and questioning look on her face and he sighed. "She didn't recognise us, tried to hurt us when we told her to stop," he explained, making Arietta frown with worry. "Rafael had to knock her out to get her to stop."

"Maker's breath," Arietta muttered, shaking her head.

"You say you lost control? Lost control to what?" Anders asked gravely.

Neri looked up; brown eyes filled with tears and something Anders so rarely saw in those tawny depths: fear. "I don't know," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I really don't know. Rafael and Tethar think I ordered the horde to flee with my spell… Tethar said it sounded like the Old Gods' commands. But I – I don't know." She stared down at her hands helplessly, and Anders pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head as he took a steady breath.

"Don't use it again, not until we know more," he whispered, holding her closer.

Neri nodded against his chest, her hands tightening around his waist. "Trust me; I've had that talk with more than a few people. I won't."

"So you think the Architect might be able to figure it all out?" Arietta asked, looking between her husband and Neri.

"Hopefully," Alistair answered.

"The Architect did say my blood was unique," Neri said quietly. "He just didn't have enough time to figure out why."

"But now he will," Arietta replied, a hand on her chin thoughtfully. "Let's hope he does then. I think we'd all like some answers."

"Shouldn't we try finding Morrigan? See what she has to say about all of this?" Alistair asked.

"I've had Leliana looking for her for weeks now, ever since Neri told us about her life expectancy," Arietta explained. "No sign of her, yet."

Neri sighed. "We should probably head inside; everyone will be waiting for us."

Arietta gave her a small smile, nodding. "Alright, let's go."

* * *

 

Arietta took another sip from her glass, savouring the rich wine that filled her mouth and easily slipped down her throat. A drink well earned, in truth. After everything they had all been through, it was finally over. Or at least, she hoped it was. Instead of planning each day at a time, each week, she could finally look to the future – there finally  _was_  a future to be had now that the Blight was truly ended. She would be able to build the Order into something great, so that Ferelden was never vulnerable to a Blight again.

The thought of recruiting people into the Wardens gave her mixed feelings, however; it always would. She knew Wardens were necessary, she just wished the secrecy wasn't. With any luck though, Avernus would at least help to rid them all of one painful truth of being a Warden - if he could cure their infertility, that was. Picking recruits wisely would be important as well, although she wished she knew exactly what made it so that some survived and others didn't. But she had Olivia and Lenny for that now; they were going to travel all over Ferelden, finding people willing and wanting to join the Order, and they were going to be trained and tested properly before being put through the Joining.

But it meant that Arietta would finally be able to make the changes to Ferelden she had always dreamed of making. And the Wardens had one philosophy she would always appreciate: that all are welcome. She wished she could get the rest of her homeland to live by such a belief. But she believed it might one day be possible. With more Wardens she would finally be able to properly aid the dwarves; in return, the crown would get its own supply of lyrium from King Bhelen. That would mean the mages in the new Tower would be entirely free of the Chantry's control and supervision, instead able to watch over themselves in peace. She would be able to use the new free mages in cities as healers and builders, applying their crafts to help people and do good. She hoped that such a thing would slowly change people's opinions of mages from fear to something more neutral. And if opinions on mages could be changed… then there was hope for elves too; there was hope for all people to work together harmoniously.

She smiled slightly, shaking her head. That was a lot of wishful thinking; she knew that, too. But at least this was a start. Assuming the Architect didn't ruin her plans, that is. She knew many in her group had doubts, and Sigrun and Oghren had been unimpressed, to put it lightly, that the Architect still lived; Rafael had been annoyed as well, but none had argued with her about her decision, instead focusing on the celebrations at hand.

And no matter what any of her Wardens thought, it seemed they needed the Architect. Arietta may not have witnessed Neri's loss of control, but it was clear that if even Alistair had been freaked out by it that it had been a terrifying and worrying sight. Neri was sat drinking next to Anders, quiet and not herself and that made Arietta's guilt grow. Everyone relied upon Neri, they knew that in dire situations Neri would always be the one to save them, and Neri never refused, never complained, she just did what was necessary… but it was clear the little elf had been just as effected by it all as everyone else, and that was on Arietta; she had sent Neri back  _knowing_  blood magic would probably be necessary. She had put her best friend in that situation, had made it so the others were now wary of her, had made it so Neri was genuinely frightened, something that didn't often happen, but without Neri's return, without her blood magic, many more would have died, Arietta did not doubt that. She just hoped the Architect would actually be able to help Neri somehow.

Dular laughed loudly and Arietta glanced at him; the hurlock was drinking with Oghren at the other end of the table. They had drunk more than anyone else in the room, and while Oghren was very inebriated by this point, she had yet to see any signs that the darkspawn was actually drunk, not that anybody knew if such a thing was at all possible. She had to admit though that it was strange to see the darkspawn present with her Wardens; it was certainly a sight she doubted she would ever witness again. It wasn't possible for the darkspawn to stay too long for fear of them spreading the Blight sickness among her soldiers, but they had more than proven themselves during the battles, and most of the people in the hall seemed to respect that. Even Rafael had joined in and was teaching Herak and Tethar how to play Wicked Grace.

Arietta hoped that the bonds formed here now between Warden and darkspawn would be strong enough to keep relationships between the Architect and the Order going long into the future. Both sides wanted the same thing: a Blight-free future, and although such a thing would be difficult to achieve, seeing darkspawn and Wardens drinking together like this gave her hope that one day it would be possible.

She knew that hope was a powerful thing. She  _could_  fear that saving the Architect would result in more death and destruction - sometimes it was easier to fear than to hope when things were bleak - but she was too much of an idealist to ever let go of hope like that, too stubborn and strong to let fear take over so completely. Even though this was just a reprieve from the threat of darkspawn, it still meant she could relax, even if it was just for a little while. And she couldn't help but think of how incredible a feeling it would be to end the Blights for good. So she would continue to hope, continue to imagine a world where people weren't constantly waiting in fear for the next Blight to begin, wondering where it would hit and who it would kill.

She turned to look at Alistair, smiling broadly. "To hope," she whispered, lifting her glass.

His lips stretched into a grin as he nodded, lifting his glass to tap against hers. "To hope," he agreed.

* * *

 

The Wardens were all staying, more or less. Only Velanna was really leaving; she had agreed to go with the darkspawn back to the Architect so that she could be with her sister. She would help the Architect with his plans – and keep an eye on him for the Commander. Olivia and Lenny were going to go recruiting, which meant they would be gone from the Keep for long periods of time, and Oghren and Sigrun had talked about heading back to Orzammar to help the dwarves. But Rafael and Max would remain, so would Coline and Nathaniel, even Justice was sticking around, wanting to make sure the darkspawn were truly gone before he returned Kristoff's body to Aura. But Neri didn't want to stay.

She'd had enough. And now, with the mistrust between her and the others, with the way they all looked at her when they thought she wasn't looking… She didn't feel  _unwelcome_ , as such, but it definitely felt like it would be best to move on, to leave. She only had so many years to live, and she and Anders, and hopefully Zevran, would need to make the most of them. She would wait for Zev's return, explain everything, and then drag him and Anders onto a boat; she didn't care where they went, as long as it took them away from Ferelden for a time.

Next to her, Anders snickered into his drink, laughing at something Max had said, and Neri forced a smile across her face. She was usually better at pretending to be having a good time, but she didn't quite have the energy for it this time. Her mind kept returning to the battle, to the spell she cast, the way the magic spun around her, the air hot and damp, filling her lungs with the metallic smell of blood and the fouler smell of the taint. The way it surged outwards, obliterating everything, painting the fields red. Her body ached to feel that power again, to feel the sweet bite of steel sliding across her palm, of the blood seeping out, hot and wet across her skin…

Neri was pulled out of her thoughts rather abruptly by one of the darkspawn laughing loudly from the other side of the table, and she dropped the knife she had somehow picked up, her hands trembling with her panic; she clasped them together and moved them to her lap, hoping nobody noticed. She swallowed thickly, realising that she truly was addicted to all of that power; none of her force magic spells could ever compare to the raw power of blood, or to the endless power she felt when surrounded by a darkspawn army.

They were  _hers_.

The intrusive thought made her frown, and she took a deep breath, wanting to clear her thoughts, needing a distraction; she could think of none better than the man at her side.

She grabbed Anders' hand, smirking. "Come with me," she whispered in his ear.

They got to their feet and headed for the door, passing the drinking darkspawn as she did so. "Good luck with your hangovers tomorrow," she called to them all, smiling.

"What be a hangover?" Tethar asked, looking around confused, and the Wardens laughed.

"Don't you worry, Oghren's got a drink for that too," she heard the dwarf say in reply, but then she shoved the doors open and headed down the corridor with Anders at her side, an amused look on his face.

"What is it you have planned for us now?" he asked, amber eyes bright and cheery, his hands incredibly warm on hers.

She grinned up at him. "You'll see."

They headed outside, and then down the path to the broken and battered inner yard; she led him past the walls, walking over the wooden planks they had placed down so that people didn't have to walk through a thick layer of blood and guts in order to leave or enter the Keep, and then she led him up the hill, into the woods beyond, focused on reaching her destination and not the tingle of the tainted ground around them and the power it promised. They walked quietly, holding hands as they made their way through the forest, leaves crunching under feet as the slight breeze rustled branches above them.

They walked out into a clearing, one with tall grasses and pretty little wild flowers that always smelled nice on sunny days. Anders was looking down at her, eyebrow arched slightly, clearly a little confused as to why they were out here, and Neri smirked.

"Look up," she said silkily. He did so, eyes widening at the starry sky stretching out above them, filling the sky with twinkling lights and bright colours.

She ran her hands up his torso, already undoing the buttons on his shirt, and he looked down at her, one brow arched in question.

"You've never made love under the stars before," she replied, half her mouth pulled up in a smirk.

The smile he gave her nearly tore her heart in two, as vulnerable and joyful as it was. He cupped her cheek, his fingers smouldering, and she leaned into the touch. "Out of all the rules we broke in the Tower, falling in love with you is the one I most cherish breaking."

He kissed her then, wet, soft lips pressed against hers, a hot tongue sliding across her lower lip, seeking entrance; she opened her mouth with a moan, melting into the kiss, finally feeling herself again. This was all she needed, just Anders, with him loving her, freely and openly, pushing away her fears and worries.

* * *

 

Zevran moved silently through the trees, not that he was likely to be heard over the rather  _lusty_  moans leaving Neri's opened mouth, as the blond man kissed and licked at the thin column of her neck, but he rather wanted to enjoy the show before so rudely interrupting – or joining them, if he had his way.

Seeing her like that, under the stars, in the arms of another… he had known it was a possibility – who wouldn't want his delicious Warden? - but to witness such a thing first hand? There were worse things, he supposed, and he was glad she was well and unharmed; the news out of Amaranthine spoke of darkspawn armies pouring out of the ground, and if the damage to the Keep was anything to go by, it had been a tough battle indeed.

But alas, he could not help but feel a little uneasy – a feeling he was most unused to - as he watched her being so very intimate with another man. Despite agreeing to be on a break, agreeing to see others, part of him felt a little disheartened that she had fallen into the arms of another. He had denied himself the company of many beautiful people while in Antiva, and perhaps, rather foolishly so, he had hoped that she might do the same.

Was it possible that this was what she had spoken of? Of the things he did not yet know. She had found another lover in his absence, one who was clearly quite proficient if the sounds she was making were any indication.

Brasca, how he had missed those sounds, missed  _her_  though. Her hair was longer, the golden strands looking pale in the bright moonlight, her curls and waves nearly falling to the freckled shoulders her lover's talented fingers had revealed to the cool night air, as he kissed across them. Her long fingers fisted in her lover's hair, freeing the tresses from their tie so that those shimmering locks fell around the man's face. Zevran had to admit, they made a pretty picture -a picture that would look  _much_  prettier if he was in it as well, of course- and both lovers seemed to know exactly how to please the other. Almost as if they had known each other longer than these few months.

" _Anders,_ " Neri moaned out, and suddenly all made sense.

This was her lover from the Circle, then. The one she had protected all those years. Zevran was not sure how the mage had come to be with her here, now, but perhaps it was good that she had not been lonely all this time. What that meant for them, however, he could not say.

Anders' hand was lost in Neri's smalls, making the little elf squirm in the human's lap as more beautiful moans fell from her lips. This was the mage that was known for his electricity trick, if Zevran recalled correctly, and he often did. He had been most curious about it after Neri had used her force magic on him back during the Blight; ah, if only his Warden knew elemental spells- what fun they could have had with fire and ice…

Neri let out a rough, hoarse cry as one of those famous sparks skittered across her skin, and Zevran found his breath hitching at the sound. It would not be long now before she came; he could see her body tightening even from here, see the way her eyes fluttered closed as she rode out the growing waves of pleasure.

He moved silently forward, unnoticed by the duo, until he was next to her, leaning into her ear.

" _Cara mia,_ " he husked breathily.

Neri gasped, her entire body going rigid as her eyes flew open and met his, and then she was cumming, a broken cry on her lips, swallowed by Zevran's mouth as he kissed her hard, desperate. Her body trembled beneath him, but she kissed him back, and a hand slid up his jaw, hot and soft, and then into his hair, kneading the silky strands. He sighed into her mouth as her fingers massaged his head, pulling him closer. She moaned as he dipped his tongue past her lips and into her mouth, tasting the sweetness of the wine she had been drinking; he hummed his approval, smirking as she relaxed into the kiss.

Anders cleared his throat, loudly, and Neri broke the kiss, pulling back slowly, her eyes blinking back open to stare up at him with this dazed look on her face, a look that made Zevran smirk and the mage next to them glare and fold his arms.

"Ah, how very rude of me," Zevran said to Anders. "I am Zevran Arainai, once of the fabled Antivan Crows, more recently, companion and lover to our illustrious Grey Warden here. A pleasure to meet you, yes?" he said, bowing slightly.

"You're back," Neri murmured longingly, still staring at him in awe.

"And your observation skills remain top-notch, my dear," he playfully responded.

A lazy little half-smile stretched across her face, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her once more. "It's good to see you," she mumbled, her brown eyes shining with tears.

"And you," he replied breathily before his lips curved back up into a smirk. " _Especially_  in such an… enticing position."

Neri's smile broadened, her eyes taking on that playful glint he knew so well. "And you just happened to turn up at the exact moment to make me cum, did you?"

"Aha, you caught me out, my dear Warden. I may have been watching for some time, but who could blame me, hmm?" he murmured, his hand caressing the back of her neck.

"Pretty sure I could. What, you couldn't just say hi like a normal person?" Anders snarked.

Zevran grinned. "And miss the sight of our darling elf coming undone like that? Surely you jest!"

Anders rolled his eyes and Neri snickered. "Sooo… Zev, I dunno if you noticed, but Anders and I are, uhh, back together."

Zevran snorted. "Truly? I had no idea."

She shook her head, grinning. "I would have explained in a letter…"

"But it is much more fun this way, no?"

"Precisely."

"Fun for whom, exactly?" Anders asked.

Neri looked to him with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, love."

"We could improve the situation for you; perhaps you would enjoy the extra company? The more the merrier, no?"

Anders frowned. "I hardly think now's the time to be-"

Zev turned back to Neri. "Ah, but do you remember the time we invited that fisherman to our bed?"

Neri's gaze darkened and she smiled. "The one with the all that chest hair?"

"Mmm, you were so enamoured with the stuff." He turned back to Anders, smiling. "I could barely keep her hands off of the poor man," he explained. "A pity you do not appear to have much in the way of hair yourself," he said as his eyes travelled down Anders' bared torso.

The mage pulled his shirt across his chest, folding his arms stiffly. "Well, as lovely as this has been…" he trailed off when Neri pouted at him.

"Anders, I know I brought you out here for… well, you know, but I can't just go tell Zev to wait inside – besides, he's such a perv, he'd just end up watching the whole thing anyway."

"How very true," Zevran sighed out dramatically. "It is much easier to include me, yes?" he said, as he grinned broadly.

" _Love_ ," Anders whined out.

"Right. Yeah, probs not the best idea." She glanced up at Zev, growing more serious. "We have a lot to talk about."

A shiver travelled down his spine and he nodded. "Indeed we do."

"I found out that-" they both said in unison before laughing awkwardly.

"You first, cara mia," Zev said graciously.

"No, no, it's fine, you go first. You found out who tried to assassinate me, I presume?"

He opened his mouth to explain, but words failed him. He closed his mouth with a frown, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

"Oh, he finally shuts up," Anders drawled, feeling overly angry for some reason.

Neri gave him an exasperated look, already sick of his sarcasm. "You could at least play nice, you know."

"So long as playing nice doesn't mean fucking in a bloody field," Anders snapped, shivering slightly.

"You seemed pretty keen a moment ago!"

"I  _was_  – when it was just me and you."

"Well it's going to be the three of us from now on so get used to it," Neri growled back.

Zevran could already tell this… whatever it was that Neri wanted between the three of them, was not going to work out. Neri had been happy, happy with Anders, and Zevran had barely been back five minutes before causing arguments.

"Well maybe I don't want it to be!" Anders yelled back, now on his feet and pacing.

Neri stood her ground, arms on her hips. "It's not like I've just dumped this on you! You  _knew_  he was coming back."

"And you knew I would probably get jealous! Well  _surprise_ , I'm jealous."

Neri was rubbing at her temples, as if a headache was forming as Anders continued to pace irritably, his hands fisted at his sides. Zevran shivered again, his own head beginning to throb slightly. He knew there were things he needed to say… but they seemed distant now, unimportant.

"Worry not, friend, I am leaving," Zevran blurted, surprising himself. Surely that was not right – he'd only just got here.

"You're  _what_?" Neri asked, frowning.

"Leaving. This was merely a brief visit to say hello, cara mia. I do believe I have caused enough trouble for one night."

"I  _enjoy_  trouble," Neri argued. "You can't be serious, Zev; you only just got here!"

"I know. I am sorry, I just wanted to see you again before leaving… for good," he bit out, practically choking on the false words. This was blood magic, he was certain. That damned – he lost his trail of thought as Neri stepped forward, her soft hands touching his arms.

"Don't go," she pleaded.

He cupped her cheek. "I must." He swallowed thickly. "There is someone waiting for me in Denerim." A twisted truth, he was just a kid.

She frowned. "Since when has that ever mattered? Bring them here, we can-"

"No, not this time, not with them," he said, the words spilling from his mouth despite his best efforts to fight them. He tried to think of a way to warn her, to explain…

Her brows lifted, her eyes widening in realisation as she staggered back a step. "I don't…" Her eyes filled with tears and his gut twisted painfully.

"What is this, some sort of bloody game to you?" Anders spat angrily.

Zevran stepped forward, trying to grab her hand – the scarred one, if he could just run his fingers over those scars from her blood magic maybe she would get the message or – but she pulled away from him, staying out of his reach. "No games. I simply came to say… goodbye," he struggled out.

Neri shook her head, tears threatening to spill. "Zev, if this is because you think we can't work…  _this_  out then-"

"No. It is not that, cara mia."

"This is absolute fucking bullshit and you know it!" she snarled.

"I must go," he repeated woodenly.

Neri was watching him carefully, her eyes bright with her fury, her face twisted in confusion and her arms folded tight across her chest defensively. He tried again to tell her, the ache in his head reaching unbearable heights of pain, enough to make him grimace. Then he felt the hot warm trickle of blood leaving his nose and Neri's expression dropped, replaced by wide eyes and an opened mouth. A second later it was gone, the fury back in her eyes, brighter and more ferocious than before as her lips twisted into a snarl.

"That fucking bitch," Neri muttered, her hands coming up to cup Zev's face, her hands hot and clammy against his overly cool skin as she wiped the blood trickling down from his nose. "She's here now, isn't she?" she whispered as her thumb traced the tattoo on his face, big brown eyes staring up into his, full of worry. He managed a small nod in reply, one that saw Neri's eyes harden, the fury returning. She pulled back from him, whirling on the trees instead, the Fade crackling and bending around her. "Show yourself you fucking coward!"

"Neri, what-" Anders began but his words died on his tongue as feminine laughter filled the clearing.

"I suppose it was only a matter of time until you discovered me, my sweet," the woman laughed out as she stepped out of the treeline.

She was in a long black dress that swayed about her legs as she sashayed into the clearing, her raven black locks also flowing freely over her shoulders, touching the tops of those pert breasts of hers. Her red lips curved into a smile, her caramel eyes full of mirth as Neri's hands dropped to her side, her magic dying out in her shock.

" _You,_ " Neri choked out. "You're the blood mage?"

Carina laughed. "Blood mage," she echoed, rolling her eyes. "I am more than a mere  _blood mage_ , darling."

Neri's magic flickered back around her fingertips and Anders did the same, Zevran, however, was still unable to properly move, stuck under the witch's spell, desperately trying to fight her hold on him.

"What do you want?" Neri hissed, stepping forward threateningly. "You tried to have me killed at Arietta's wedding. Tricked us into thinking you were just a whore while Deon tried to assassinate me. You impersonated the First Warden,  _kidnapped_  Max, and have been fucking with me and my friends for weeks.  _Why?_ "

Carina let out a short irritated sigh. "I thought you were a threat, child. As for the rest… I simply wanted answers. The Architect believed you to be important, and happened to be correct. We need you."

"For  _what_?"

The Witch laughed, her cat-like eyes gleaming. "My darling little elf, telling you now would be no fun at all!"

Neri let out a low growl. "Then why are you here?"

Carina smirked. "Perhaps I am here to toy with you, like a cat and their food; you are, after all, rather tasty morsels, are you not?" She cackled. "Or perhaps I am simply here to make sure things go smoothly. The road has been so very, very long, it would not do for there to be any bumps or roadblocks now."

"I think you're gonna be disappointed," Neri she spat, as she shot a blast of magic at the witch. Carina gave a gentle wave of her wrist and Neri's magic dissipated, surprising them all.

"I don't take  _kindly_  to disappointment, young one," Carina sneered in reply, making Neri bare her teeth in reply.

Anders attacked next, only for his magic to fizzle out as well, leaving both mages defenceless. Zevran took a step forward, able to move a little now that the witch was distracted, his fingers curling around the hilt of his dagger.

Neri's eyes narrowed and then she lunged forward, ready to attack the witch, but Zevran's feet were moving without his say so, and in a blur he had his dagger at Neri's neck, holding her tight against his chest, both of them breathing hard. She struggled against him, but he pushed her head back further until it was against his shoulder and he was breathing hard against her ear.

Her hand slipped over his where it held her waist, her long fingers caressing him, soothing him. It was enough to steady his breathing and give him back some control. She gave a slight nod of her head, and he found just enough strength to move his hand closer to her narrow throat, the blade pressing against her hammering pulse point until it drew blood. Just a few drops, but he knew that Neri would need little more.

Carina laughed. "Go ahead, little elf, try to use that against me. I promise you it won't end well."

He could feel Neri tense, wanting to draw on her own life's blood, but Carina glanced at Anders with a wicked smirk, and suddenly Anders was moving to her side, stuck in a trance. Carina slid her long-nailed fingers up Anders' arm, pulling his shirt down from his shoulder, baring more of his pale skin. Neri growled in response, but that only made Carina's smile widen as her hands stroked lazily over Anders' bared chest.

"I could ask him to fuck me right now and he would, dear. And maybe I should; that is after all why you dragged him out here, is it not?"

"Don't you fucking dare," Neri hissed.

Carina smiled, yanking Anders' chin so that she could lean in and kiss him. Neri's entire body went rigid as Anders lifted his hand to run his fingers through Carina's silky black hair as the witch deepened the kiss.

"Leave him alone!" Neri cried. "It's me you fucking want."

Carina broke the kiss, laughing as she turned back to look at Neri where Zevran still had a blade at her neck. "You're not wrong. It was such a pity that I didn't have time to get to know you more…  _intimately_  at the wedding," she said as she stalked forward, coming to a stop inches from Neri's face. "I've always had a thing for elves, you see, but at least I got a little taste of Zevran here." Carina's fingers brushed Zevran's cheek, her caramel eyes darkening with desire, and he grit his teeth.

"Why are you doing this?" Neri asked, her voice breaking with her helplessness.

Carina's hand left Zevran's cheek, instead moving to touch Neri's chin, tugging her head up. "Such beauty within you; I should have realised sooner, but I cannot control you because of it." She smirked, "not that I need to when you are surrounded by such  _pretty_  boys."

"Fuck you," Neri spat.

"So feisty. Yes, I can see that being a problem. But that is a worry for another day, I think." Carina tilted her head, a sad smile on her pouty lips. "It is such a pity I cannot let you remember any of this."

"Wait, what?" Neri frowned, her whole body going still in Zevran's arms, but Carina lifted her hand and touched Neri's forehead, and Neri slumped forward, Zevran the only thing keeping her on her feet. "We will meet again soon, Pulchra," Carina whispered before giving Zevran a nod; he let her drop to the ground, his hands still clenched firmly around his dagger, the witch  _so close_  to him he could smell the rich spices of her perfume, but he was still unable to move his arm to kill her. His eyes locked with Anders' who were wide and confused and full of fury. But Carina turned on the mage.

"And you," she whispered, clicking her fingers. Anders collapsed to the ground, unconscious, leaving Zevran and the witch alone.

"Much better," Carina purred, her honeyed voice overly sweet and thick.

He felt her hold on him loosen – enough for him to speak freely, at least.

"Te voy a matar!" he hissed at her, trying to lunge forward with the dagger still in his hand.

She didn't flinch, a grin like a Cheshire cat spreading across her blood red lips, those caramel eyes of hers alight with amusement. "You may try to kill me, but you will fail, just as all before have failed to do so too. Imprisonment was their only answer, but of course chains never could keep  _me_  contained for long."

"What is it you want, witch?" he asked, his whole body shaking as he tried to break her hold on him.

"For things to go smoothly, of course." She walked around him, her long dress rustling in the grass. "I need you gone," she said plainly. "I  _could_  take your memories too," she said as her nails scraped across his armour. "But you'd only try to come back to her again and I don't doubt that such a thing would bring back your lover's stolen memories." She walked away from him. "No, it is better you remember and stay away. Send a letter if you must," she said with a casual wave of her hand, "but I will be watching, my little Crow." She crouched down next to Anders, her eyes roaming over his unconscious form, a wicked smile at her lips. "Should you try anything; I shall kill this precious human of hers," she said, as she lifted Anders' chin, squeezing hard, her long nails digging into his skin.

"What makes you so sure I care for him at all?" Zevran asked, feigning nonchalance.

The witch laughed at that. "I can see your thoughts, boy; I am in your head. You care for her, and thus those she cares for too." Carina stood back up, smiling sweetly at him. "So leave. I don't care where you go but it cannot be here, with her."

He tried to think of a way out of this, of a way to fix this, but she laughed again, before her face dropped into a menacing glare.

"Remain here, and I will put you in chains. Try to warn her, and I will twist your words as I did tonight. Return to her, and I will rape, mutilate and butcher her lover in front of her." She walked toward him with each threat until she finally stopped just in front of him. "Then I will slaughter her darling friends." She tilted her head slightly, a twisted smile on her face. "Maybe the pretty Commander first, and her husband next." Carina licked her lips, moving in closer, until her breath was ghosting over his ear. "I will make your freckled little elf so alone that she will want nothing more than for her short, miserable life to end," she whispered, making Zevran feel physically sick.

She pulled back, smiling sweetly again. "There is no winning here, not against me, boy. You care for her, so stay well away."

He was panting hard, his body trembling and tired, unable to see a solution to his current predicament. "What are you?" he found himself asking, "No normal mage has this much power."

She smiled sweetly. "No, they don't."

Zevran closed his eyes, his fingers curled tightly around his dagger before he lunged at her, swiping with his blade. She dodged him with more grace than should have been possible in that long dress of hers. And then his entire hand cramped up, twisting painfully as she took control of his body again. He hissed in pain as she watched him, cat-like eyes flinty and cool. The blade dropped from his hand, and she tsk-ed.

"Predictable," she sighed, as she leant down and picked up his dragger, casually examining it. "I think I'll hold onto this; it is after all, one she will recognise as yours, is it not?"

He growled, unable to do much else.

"Go willingly and you can say goodbye to your heart's desire. Continue to fight me and I will knock you out and take you far from here."

He glanced down at Neri curled helplessly on the ground at his feet, the thought of not being able to say goodbye was too painful; all the fight left him, he sighed, nodding.

"Good boy," she crooned.

He knelt down next to Neri, watching her steady breathing. He tucked a long curl behind her ear, relishing the softness of the strands and the smoothness of her skin as his knuckles brushed across it.

He looked back up at the witch. "If you hurt her-"

"The Architect and I  _need_  her," Carina interrupted. "Until then, she will be protected."

"And after? What is it you intend to do with her?"

Carina's eyes softened. "She will help right a wrong committed long ago, you all shall," she said quietly, before swallowing. "Go. And do not come back," she said more acerbically.

His entire body was crying out for him to attack again, to try to kill the witch regardless of consequence, but he couldn't. Instead he leaned down and kissed Neri softly on the cheek, his lips lingering against her skin as he breathed her in one final time.

"I am yours," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, tears threatening to spill. She wouldn't remember this, him returning, she would still be waiting for him, thinking that he had abandoned her or that something had happened to him, and that thought cut deeper than any blade could.

At least she had Anders, he reminded himself; she was not alone. So long as Zevran stayed away she would remain happy and safe… but she would also remain oblivious to the prison she was in, not that there was anything Zevran could do while he was under the witch's control either.

He sighed and, reluctantly, he got to his feet, his whole body trembling; he stared down at Neri, committing to memory just how peaceful and beautiful she looked curled up on her side in the pale moonlight and long grass with her curly hair fanned out around her despite the dire circumstances, and then slowly he turned away, taking the first few difficult steps away from the woman he loved. The tears finally fell once he reached the treeline, silent sobs wracking his body as he put one foot in front of the other; he didn't know where he was going or what he would do now – everything had revolved around Neri, helping her, getting back to her, being with her, but now all of that was gone. His fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging deep into his skin – no, not gone, simply on hold. But he would find a way back to her. This he swore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls don't hate me. 
> 
> <3


	54. Screaming Out Loud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to Lys for the beta! And thank you all for the comments! Still on a two-weekly update schedule atm but every comment does motivate me to write more so please keep them coming. Also there's f/m smut in this chapter, enjoy!

It was cold, and Neri awoke shivering, lying on hard, wet ground. She opened her eyes, only for her breath to hitch as panic surged through her; either she couldn't see or she was in pitch blackness. She blinked a few times, head moving, searching for any source of light. There was none, and she swallowed thickly. Neri had hated the dark ever since the Tower, ever since Albert had dragged her into that dark store room to rape and beat her because of Anders' escapes and bad behaviour. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm herself, her nose crinkling at the thick damp air that surrounded her.

She called out, only for her voice to die on her tongue, little more than a quiet sob leaving her already trembling lips. She lifted a shaky hand to her mouth, only then noticing the heavy weight around her wrists. The shackles clinked as she moved her hands to feel the chains that bound her. She followed the links of metal with her fingers, all the way down to the slimy wet ground, her heart pounding faster with every ragged breath that she took. Neri tugged at the chains; desperate to free herself, but the metal only creaked and groaned, not budging.

She stood up on trembling legs, testing how much slack she had with the chains, her arms held out in front of her as she searched for a wall or door. The space around her seemed endless, and she couldn't help but fear that the ground would suddenly drop away causing her to plummet to her death. She tested her magic next; she could feel the Fade vibrating through her, but nothing happened. She was stuck in the dark, chained, voiceless and magic-less with no memory as to how she got there.

She stumbled backwards, dizzy and terrified, tears falling from her eyes as more broken sobs left her lips, until she fell against what felt like heavy metal bars, like the ones you would find on a jail cell, but these bars were massively thick, like they were meant to hold something much larger than herself. She tried to slip through the gaps in the bars, but the chains around her wrists pulled taut, stopping her. She shook the bars next, tried to break them with what limited strength she had, but it was no use; she was trapped. She slumped down to the ground, sobbing quietly again.

Neri felt angry,  _furious_ , like someone had done this to her, but she couldn't recall anything more. Her head throbbed whenever she tried to remember and her thoughts went immediately to the blood mage that worked with the Architect, the one that had already taken her memories once before. Her hands curled into fists in her lap, her jaw clenched. That anger burning brighter and brighter inside her with every second she spent chained like some caged animal.

But all of that anger was extinguished in a second when she suddenly heard a huge intake of breath from somewhere within her cell. She held her breath, turning around slowly to look into the dark despite not being able to see. Gooseflesh broke out across her skin as she waited, trying to hear, hoping she had imagined such a thing, her whole body tensed tight as a bow string. Then that big breath was let out in a loud whooshing rush, with enough strength to wash over her skin, pushing her curls away from her face. It was accompanied by deep rumbling laughter that echoed around the large space, making her heart hammer in her chest.

The creature, whatever it was, moved toward her, making the ground shake with each of its steps, its heavy breathing making her wince just as much as its loud footfalls. She backed up, cowering until she reached the corner of the cell, hugging her knees to her chest, her whole body shaking with absolute fear.

She wanted to run, to hide, to get away from the thing she could not see, but all she could do was cower and sob as the creature stopped just inches from her. She turned her head, pressing back against the rough surface of the wall, helpless, feeling the creature's putrid hot breath wash across the skin of her cheek.

" _Please_ ," she managed to sob out, her voice little more than a broken whisper.

It laughed at her, and the deep booming voice was loud enough to shake the room. She cowered, her hands over her ears, as it continued to laugh, laughing so hard slabs of rock began crashing to the ground around them, the whole prison shaking around her. Finally Neri found her voice.

She screamed.

Neri woke up then, screaming as she clutched her chest, panting hard. She looked around, relief flooding through her as she realised she was in the field with the pretty little wild flowers, half naked with Anders. He was already awake, already pulling her close to his chest, hugging her tightly as she sobbed against him. His healer's hands rubbed her back in soothing circles, as he murmured soft words of comfort in her ear. She relaxed a little in his arms, and he pulled back enough to give her a worried look.

"Darkspawn?" he asked softly.

Neri shook her head, her body still trembling. "No," she rasped out, her throat dry and hoarse. "This was worse… I don't, I don't know what it was," she said shakily.

The crinkle of worry between his eyes deepened and he pulled her back to his chest, landing a soft kiss against the top of her head. "It was just a nightmare, love, it's over now."

"It felt so real, Anders," she whispered as she clutched his shirt with her hands, fisting the cotton between her trembling fingers.

"They always do," he murmured back quietly, voice sullen as his hands continued to stroke and soothe her.

They both suffered heavily from nightmares; it was rare for them to go a night without at least one of them waking early. They got through it with cuddles or sex, but Anders had never seen Neri this shaken by one before. Usually she woke, groaning and annoyed that the darkspawn were pestering her yet again; on the rare occasion that she dreamt of the Tower and Albert, she would be quieter and Anders would make sweet, slow love to her. And the times he woke, worried that he had lost her, or that he would be locked up in the dark again, she would be there to soothe him better with soft kisses and warm smiles. But this… whatever she had dreamt about had truly terrified her, and all he could do was hold her close until the darkness of the nightmare faded from her mind.

It was a long time before she stopped trembling. They had both curled up together in the grass, watching as the sun's rays slowly broke through the trees to light up the field. One by one the little wild flowers opened up around them, welcoming in the warmth of the sun.

Neri stared up at the pale blue sky, watching as the clouds moved by. She tried to focus her thoughts on her night with Anders, of their love-making, rather than on the ensuing nightmare, but even that was hard to focus on, like it was a distant memory or a dream rather than something that had happened just last night. Had she been on top or had he? It all seemed so hazy now. Had her nightmare been so strong, so lifelike, that it made reality seem the dream instead? She shivered and nuzzled further into Anders' chest.

"Sorry for ruining our night," she mumbled against him. "I had hoped things might be different now that the Mother's dead."

He ran his hands up and down her back, pulling her closer to him. "I would say that at least it wasn't a darkspawn nightmare… but it sounds like you would have preferred that."

Neri nodded, her fingers absentmindedly trailing over his shirt. "I really would have," she agreed. "This was so…" She shuddered, and then took a large gulp of air. "I was caged in total darkness," she explained, feeling a shiver run through Anders' own body at the mention of one of his greatest fears. "It was freezing. I couldn't talk or see or cast any magic. I had no memory of how I got there and I couldn't escape or do anything. I was completely helpless.  _Weak_. And…" She took a shaky breath. "Anders, there was something  _else_  in there with me." She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing hard.

That another sent a shiver down his spine. In the Tower during his year of solitary he had slowly lost his mind in the endless darkness, losing track of time; all the while, the demons whispered to him. He had often awoken in the middle of the night, feeling like someone was watching him or in the cell with him, only for it to turn out to be Mr Wiggums or a Templar bringing him food.

"And you don't know what it was?" he asked quietly, running his hands through her hair.

"No," she whispered.

Anders frowned slightly. A lot of the mages in the Circle believed that dreams related to things in real life; dreaming about losing teeth apparently meant you were worried, for example. If Neri was dreaming about being trapped inside a cage with something else… unable to do anything, then it might have had something to do with her blood magic, the spell she cast in the battle and everything that happened after.

"Might be because of your loss of control with the blood magic, perhaps?" he voiced quietly.

Neri shivered against him. "Maybe. I really don't know. Don't  _want_  to know."

His brow furrowed further. "You don't want answers, at all?" It was so like her, when scared, to ignore things entirely or distract herself with something else. More than once, he had broached the topic of her blood magic, wanting to know more despite not really approving of it. But she so rarely spoke of it. He knew she found it addicting, that she liked the power, but beyond that he knew very little.

She lifted her head to look up at him, watching as the amber of his eyes caught in the sunlight, turning it a vibrant ochre. She gave him a small smile, lifting her hand to cup his jaw. "I just want to get away from here, with you and Zev, that's it," she replied. Her head throbbed slightly, and she frowned as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Anders noticed her discomfort, and a wave of his healing magic washed over her, easing the pain away. She sighed appreciatively. "Zev shouldn't be too long now, I hope." But even as she said it, she had a sinking feeling in her gut that she would be wrong.

Anders' gut twisted at the mention of Neri's other lover, and he frowned; he knew he was the jealous type, but up until recently he had actually been looking forward to meeting the Crow. His arrival would make Neri happy, and given how down she had been since the battle… well, it would be good to see her true smile again, rather than one of the fake ones she usually forced across her face. So he wasn't sure why he felt such jealously at the mention of the other man's name. Perhaps it was because he would be arriving soon, and Anders wasn't sure if sharing Neri would actually work out or not. He shook away the thoughts and smiled down at Neri, lifting his hand to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

"Then I better make the most of the time we have together before he arrives."

Neri's eyes visibly darkened at that, and a smirk lit up her face. "You really should," she purred, as she straddled his legs. "So, ever made love at sunrise before?" she asked as she pushed her hair away from her face, tucking it behind the points of her ears, her eyes playful, the fear of her nightmare finally beginning to fade from them.

His hands cupped her ass, dragging her closer to him, the smile on his face widening. "Certainly not like this," he husked.

Anders leaned in and kissed her, capturing her lips with his own, savouring the feel of her soft supple lips against his and the way her mouth opened for him. Her tongue flicked teasingly against his lower lip, and he couldn't help but deepen the kiss, his tongue surging forward to tangle with hers. His hands roamed over her ass, squeezing and she rocked her hips in response, a breathy moan accompanying it. His hands slid up under her shirt next to feel their way up her back, over the ridges of her spine and the scars that marred her beautiful freckled skin; Neri shivered at the contact, pushing herself closer to him.

Neri's hot core pressed up against the bulge in his smalls and he could feel the smirk at her lips as she began to grind against him, rubbing her heat along his growing erection as her hands tangled in his hair, fisting the golden strands. He groaned and pulled her closer, needing more of her. She realised what he really wanted and broke the kiss to tug off her loosely buttoned shirt, leaving her naked from the waist up with the warm colours of dawn bathing her skin.

He couldn't help but smile at the sight of her, his eyes half lidded as he stared at her appreciatively. Her golden curls fell in tight ringlets over her freckled shoulders just as her peachy nipples peaked, growing taut in the cold morning air. She looked up at him through her thick lashes, a coy little smirk playing about her lips. He was just about to kiss those delicious lips again when she pulled free of him completely, getting to her feet to stand just in front of him instead. He whined at the loss of contact and she chuckled, but then her hands slid over her soft skin, lingering on her pert breasts a moment before she slipped a hand lower and into her panties. Anders leant back on his hands, watching the view approvingly as she began to stroke herself in front of him; her head fell back slightly, her mouth falling open as she moaned.

She stopped a moment later and tugged down her smalls, letting them pool on the grass, leaving her standing before him, completely nude. He moaned deep in his throat as his eyes raked over all of her. He tried to touch her, to drag her to him but she swatted him away, smirking. "My turn to be in control," she explained with a wink; the thought of her taking charge made his cock twitch, and he swallowed thickly, throat suddenly dry in anticipation.

Neri circled him like a shark would its prey. He could feel her eyes on him as she walked around his back, trailing her fingers across his shoulders, making him shiver. She came into view at his side, and his breath hitched at the predatory gaze she had fixed on him; she looked ready to devour him, and his cock strained against his smalls, eager to be buried in her, lost to the heat of her mouth or her core.

She crouched down next to him and he could feel her panted breaths against his face; she grabbed a fistful of his hair, turning his head sharply to kiss him hard on the lips, her tongue pushing into his mouth, devouring, just as he thought she might.

Her hands roamed down over his chest, and then began to bunch up the fabric of his shirt, lifting it slowly up his body. She broke the kiss enough to manoeuvre the shirt over his head, and then they were kissing again. The shirt was nearly free of his arms when she suddenly stopped and tangled it about his wrists, binding his hands together. She pulled back, smirking at the dazed look he wore on his face, and then she stood again, turning her back; he settled his bound hands in his lap, his eyes roaming up her long slender legs and up and over her pert little bum. She turned and came toward him, stepping over his sprawled legs so that she was staring down at him, spread wide. His eyes were transfixed on her glistening core and he wanted nothing more than to move forward and press his lips to that swollen little bundle of nerves or to plunge his tongue deep into her quivering heat. But Neri had other ideas.

She pushed him back down onto the grass, and then crouched down, straddling him so that her core was pressed right against his aching cock, and she pushed his hands up over his head so that they were resting in the grass.

"They will remain there," she commanded. He shivered. She had always been bossy and impatient in the bedroom, but it was not often she stripped him of total control; they usually shared it. So to be totally at her mercy was strange, a good strange and it was making him all kinds of turned on.

He watched as she leant down closer to him until their bodies were flush against one another, her hands sliding up the sides of his ribs, her hair tickling the skin of his chest. Her lips touched the skin just over his heart and she planted a soft wet kiss there, smiling slightly as she no doubt felt his hammering heartbeat. She slowly kissed her way upwards, following the lines of his collar bone, up to his thrumming pulse point. He cried out as she bit down hard on it, his entire body arching off of the ground as she sucked on the tender skin, her hips rocking teasingly against his crotch. Just as it was becoming too painful she eased off, kissing the abused spot better, and her hands slid into his hair, gently kneading his scalp. He moaned softly, his whole body relaxing once more.

Neri kissed him, lazy and unhurried, moving from his mouth to his neck and then along his jaw and back to his lips. She felt better now, knowing she was in charge. Her loss of control had bothered her ever since the battle, like she somehow wasn't in charge of her own body anymore; the nightmare had only solidified that feeling. Control was so important growing up in the Circle and yet she rarely had any back then. She couldn't stop Albert from hurting her, and she couldn't stop Anders from leaving. Things had been better in the Wardens - she was free and strong and in control; the thought that she might lose that terrified her. But if she could no longer control her magic, at least she still had sex. And she knew the feeling would pass, it  _was_  passing, how could it not when Anders was looking at her with lust blown eyes?

Her hips continued to grind against him, making her lover whimper. "Neri, please," he begged.

She glanced down at his crotch, and then looked back up at him with a roguish smile. "Tell me what you want," she purred, as she once again rocked her hips hard into his bulge. He groaned and bit down on his lip to stifle it.

"You," he husked, voice cracking with the strain of his arousal.

Her eyes grew darker, lust clouding them and her lips curved into a smile. "I'll always be yours," she whispered.

She sat up; he had expected her to move down his legs, instead she moved up his torso and his eyes went wide as he realised what she was about to do, before he smirked and settled his head back into the grass. Neri's knees locked around his arms which were still tired above his head, and he could smell the musky scent of her arousal, could see it glistening across her mound. He moaned.

"You know what to do," she breathed as she lowered her core onto his face.

Neri's entire body quivered as Anders' hot mouth closed around her clit and began to suck on that bundle of nerves, drawing it between his wet lips as his tongue flicked lazily across it. Her hips rocked forward, her control over her body already slipping as she was unable to stop herself from craving more of his mouth on her, but she was well past caring. She just wanted Anders,  _needed_  Anders now.

He ran the flat of his tongue from her slit up to her pearl, letting his tongue pass over her nub with a quick swirl of his tongue, before he moved back down to lick out her core. He plunged his tongue into her trembling heat, letting her rocking body take it in further until he could wriggle his tongue deep inside her, seeking out the spot that he knew would drive her wild. He found it and Neri moaned loudly above him, her hips bucking wildly into his mouth as he tongue-fucked her, lapping up the copious amounts of sweet cream coating his tongue and mouth.

She could feel the orgasm building, that fire in her belly ready to explode outwards and consume her. Her whole body was trembling, her legs shaking likes leaves as they tried to hold her over Anders' head and her hips continued to blindly buck and rock down onto the devastatingly talented tongue that was buried deep inside her, hot, wet and driving her insane with its endless movements and teasing.

Anders flicked his tongue across her sweet spot with as much force as he could muster, and that saw Neri falling apart above him with a scream, an entirely different kind of scream to the one she had woken up with earlier that morning. His mouth was flooded with her arousal as her sheath clenched and unclenched around his tongue, and he continued to lick up all of her juices as she whimpered and trembled over him, her hands now resting just above his hips to stop herself collapsing onto him.

He stared up at her, at the curve of her arched body, at the way her breasts rose and fell with her panted breaths. Her head was back, barely visible to him but he could picture her all the same, the fucked out look on her face, her dishevelled hair and kiss bruised lips. It was always the look in her eyes after an orgasm that turned him on the most though; she always looked dazed, like he had just fucked her brains out, her pupils blown wide still, her lashes hooded in satisfaction. When she finally sat herself back up, she looked down at him with that exact look, a lazy little smile accompanying it and he shuddered.

She licked her lips. "After that... I think you deserve a reward," she murmured as she moved back down his body, finally straddling his lower legs.

His breath hitched as her fingers ghosted over his neglected erection, which was now overly sensitive, almost to the point of painful, from being trapped in his smalls for so long. He hissed as she slid her finger up his length, and he bucked into her touch, somehow still desperate for more. Neri chewed on her lip, hiding a smirk as she very carefully and slowly tugged his smalls down, and his cock finally bounced free, a moan of relief leaving his lips with it.

A shiver ran down Neri's spine at the sight of the engorged head of Anders' manhood glistening with precum and dark with arousal. Even if she wanted to take her time and tease him some more, she couldn't; he looked far too delicious for that. She held Anders' hips down, wanting to have at least some control in this, before she took that swollen red head into her mouth. Anders' whole body jerked and she had to put all of her weight into holding him down as he let out a long ragged groan. She smirked around his cock, and then slowly drew him deeper into her mouth, relaxing her throat enough to swallow him further.

Anders wanted nothing more than to thrust hard and fast into the hot passage of Neri's mouth, to pound into her until he spilled himself down her throat, but he couldn't do that with her nails biting into his hip bone whenever his hips moved at all. He couldn't even fist the grass or her hair with his hands bound above his head. And so he grit his teeth, groaning and sweating in the grass as she slowly took his cock deep into her throat before pulling back, letting her tongue slide along the underside of his shaft.

He cried out as she flicked her tongue across the head, letting it slip right across the sensitive slit, overwhelming him with pleasure and pain. Neri just smirked, and did it again, and just as he was sure he was about to cum, she moved her hand from his hip and held the base of his shaft, denying him his orgasm as she took his cock once again deep down her throat. A sob escaped his lips and his whole body trembled, teetering on the edge of release, but she continued her teasing onslaught. All he could do was watch her, watch as her cheeks hollowed to accommodate him, watch as his cock travelled deeper into her mouth, he could even see it in her throat from this position and that made him shudder with want, his cock twitching in her mouth.

Finally, she released her grip on his length but again, before he could cum, her mouth pulled away and licked down the side of his shaft, down to the spot she had been holding just moments ago. She looked up at him with a wicked glint in her eyes, one that spelled mischief, and then she was moving off of him and shoving his legs up, bending them at the knees. He didn't have time to ask what she was doing before that tongue of hers was back, but lower,  _much_  lower this time.

He let out a surprised gasp as Neri's tongue swirled over the pucker of his ass, making his whole body jolt and buck with pleasure. It had been a long time since they had played back there, and usually if Neri was going to go there at all, it was with fingers. To have her hot breath and even hotter tongue sliding over such a sensitive spot was making him see stars already.

"Relax," she coaxed, as she replaced her tongue with a finger instead, letting it circle around that tight little hole, spreading her spit around to loosen the tensed muscle. It had been a long time since anyone had gone near there, but she knew how hard Anders came when she played with his prostate, and she wanted to see that now.

Neri watched him take a few deep breaths, the beads of sweat on his chest gleaming in the morning sunlight which had just begun to appear above the treeline. He looked gorgeous like this, his hair stuck to his face, all messy and sweat slicked, his skin flushed from his cheeks down to his chest, his hips rocking into her hand, urging her finger to enter him.

She drew her finger into her mouth, making sure it was well slicked up before she very slowly pushed it against that little star. Anders keened, his whole body tensing as her finger entered him, slipping past the ring of muscle and into his tight hot channel. And then she crooked her finger over his sweet spot and Anders cried out, his back arching off of the ground as his passage clamped down hard around her digit. She massaged that spot, pressing her finger over it in slow sure strokes and Anders' hips rocked in time with her steady rhythm. His eyes were closed, his teeth sinking deep into his lower lip, a grimace of pleasure contorting his features as his body grew steadily tighter and tighter; she was mesmerised by the sight of him.

"Please.  _Please_ , love," he begged, as he continued to ride her finger, grinding against the long digit she had thrusting in and out of his tight passage.

He was so close, his thrusting hips getting more and more erratic with each stroke of her finger. And she finally took pity on him, leaning down to close her mouth once again around his cock. All it took was for her to suck the tip at the same time her finger crooked hard over his sweet spot and Anders was cumming, screaming as his entire body convulsed.  _Now_  she remembered why they didn't often do this… Her mouth was filled with his seed, spurt after copious spurt; she swallowed it down, milking him dry as she sucked on his cock, her finger still rubbing his prostate, making him shudder and whimper.

**…**

When Anders opened his eyes next, his head was in Neri's lap, and she was humming softly to herself as she combed her fingers through his hair.

"You actually passed out," she mused, laughter tinting her voice.

He smiled crookedly up at her. "That was…" He sighed wistfully. "Thank you."

She grinned down at him. "No, thank  _you._ " She kissed him hard on the lips, upside down as they were it was a little awkward, but he moaned into her mouth, his hands –no longer bound- came up to cup her jaw, deepening the contact.

Neri pulled back a moment later, smiling and he sighed contentedly. "You haven't done that for a while… since the Tower and even then only the once."

She smirked. "Is that really surprising when you scream like that? Half the Tower heard. I have no idea how Karl managed to keep you so quiet during all of your  _early morning herbal_   _lessons_." He blinked in surprise and she laughed again. "Yeah, you weren't fooling  _anyone_  with that."

He smiled, suddenly wistful. Neri and he so rarely spoke about Karl. Neri knew him, but whereas Anders had trained with Karl most days in the healing arts, Neri had been with other trainers and thus had only spoken with Karl maybe a handful of times.

"You miss him," she commented plainly, her fingers still running small circles over his head.

Anders nodded. "He was… special to me," he said quietly. In truth Karl had meant a lot to him, more than he had ever cared to admit back in the Tower. After everything with Neri and Albert, Anders had realised that he cared a lot for Karl; it wasn't quite the same as how he felt with Neri, but he had to admit that it hadn't been far off. Karl was kind, gentle and intelligent, he was everything a healer should be, needed to be, and Anders had been inspired by him from the get go. Karl had taught him much, being older and more experienced, and Anders had a great deal of respect for him. That respect and admiration had grown into something more over the years but it had been a long time since he had seen or even spoken to Karl now, thanks to the bloody Templars sending Karl to Kirkwall just after Anders' Harrowing.

"He was your first - well, first bloke at least," Neri said. "Of course he was special to you. You never forget your first."

"He was," Anders admitted. "I haven't thought about him for a long time."

"I think it's easy to forget about the Circle - our old lives, or maybe it's just because we  _want_  to forget about all of that- I certainly haven't thought about our friends there much either. I write to Sol… but it's still easy to put all of that out of mind. Maybe we should visit? The new Tower will be finished soon; we could go check it out together."

He smiled up at her. "I never thought I would willingly go back there… but I think I'd like that."

Neri's stomach growled and they both chuckled. "Breakfast time," she said with a grin.

They both got to their feet and finished dressing. Neri took one last look around the clearing, that feeling of unease settling back over her, like there was something important she was missing or…

"You coming or what?" Anders asked, pulling her from her thoughts; she turned and smiled at him.

"You'd know if I was coming," she teased, as she walked to his side and took his hand in hers.


	55. Extra Special Brew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this one is bloody absurd, hope you like it! And I added a photo of Neri created with some very questionable photoshop skills and added to the chapter with some even more questionable HTML skills. I'm not going to even attempt to add pointed ears poking out of all that hair so just assume they're there, okay? ;p

 

 Neri!

 

 

 

Arietta's body ached, but it wasn't because of all the fighting she had done recently. She gave her husband a coy smile as she sat down with a slight wince. "I had expected more people to be at breakfast," she mused, as she began piling food on her plate. "This food has barely been tucked into."

"Maybe they're still busy  _celebrating_ ," Alistair said with a smile, his eyes shining mischievously.

She felt a blush creep up her neck and she cleared her throat, smiling. "All of the couples  _do_  seem to be missing," she said in agreement.

"I wish we were too," he mumbled around a spoonful of porridge.

She glanced at him, a brow raised in mock offense. "Not content with our celebrations, dearest husband?"

Both his brows arched in surprise. "Of course!" he hastily replied, nearly choking on his mouthful. "But I mean, well… it wouldn't hurt to carry on celebrating all week, would it?"

Arietta smiled into her tea. "No, it most certainly would not, although I might need a bath or two first. I do ache a fair bit."

Alistair cringed a little at that. "I didn't mean to hurt you-"

"It's a  _good_  ache, Alistair; I feel thoroughly used," she said with a smirk which saw Alistair's cheeks flushing with colour.

The doors opened then, and Coline entered, laughing loudly, with an exasperated looking Nathaniel at her side. "I – I can't believe they  _beat_  you!" Coline snorted mid-laugh and brought a hand up to cover her mouth as she continued to giggle rather uncontrollably. " _Darkspawn!"_  she laughed out.

Arietta could see Nathaniel's jaw twitch in annoyance as he took a seat at the table, giving Arietta and Alistair a nod in greeting.

Arietta had never heard Coline laugh, let alone laugh quite like this; she had one of those irritating but entirely endearing kinds of laugh that the noble had successfully kept under wraps, until now.

"Uhh, what happened, exactly?" Alistair asked, watching the pair with an amused, lopsided smile.

Coline gulped down some air in between her fit of giggles, while Nathaniel just watched her, one brow arched ever so slightly as he waited for her to be done. When he realised Coline wasn't going to stop laughing any time soon he sighed, and turned to face Arietta and Alistair.

"Rafael was a very good teacher to the darkspawn," he explained with a slight frown between his brows.

That made Coline laugh even harder, until tears were falling down her reddened cheeks. "They made him  _strip_ ," she cackled, laughing so hard she nearly fell out of her seat.

Nathaniel levelled a glare at her. "It was Oghren's fault they suggested that," he said with a shake of his head.

Coline snickered, a hand over her mouth again. "I'm sorry," she laughed out. "I can't stop."

Nathaniel rolled his eyes at the other archer. "You should not have accepted that drink from Max this morning."

She giggled again. "He said it was a hangover cure!"

Arietta groaned. "So he's going around getting people drunk again this morning, is he?"

"I believe he was trying to get Rafael to drink it… that special brew of his. I think he may have succeeded," Nathaniel explained as he tucked into his breakfast.

"Oh Maker," Arietta said as she rubbed her forehead.

"Is this the drink you were telling me about? Alistair asked, head tilted slightly as he watched with a worried frown.

Arietta nodded. "I don't know what he puts in it… but the stories alone are enough to make me not want to try it."

Alistair grinned as his gaze returned to Coline. "It doesn't seem  _so_  bad."

Coline started laughing hysterically, gripping the table cloth, her eyes wide. "It's horrendous! I. Can't. Stop. Laughing!" she said, in hysterics. "I am going to  _kill_ Max," she laughed manically.

Arietta shared an amused look with her husband before carrying on with breakfast, both of them doing their best to ignore the hysterical mess that was Coline as she slumped, exhausted, against the table, breaking into the odd fits of giggles in between sobs.

Nathaniel rubbed the hysterical archer's back, trying to calm her, but that just seemed to make her more hysterical, which wasn't really surprising given Coline's feelings toward Nathaniel. It was actually a miracle that in the state she was in, she hadn't yet blurted anything about her feelings toward the former nobleman.

"You have such strong hands," Coline mumbled, her laughter finally appearing to have died down.

 _Spoke too soon_ , thought Arietta. Although Nathaniel didn't seem to mind the compliment; if anything, he seemed to enjoy it, if the way his lip twitched briefly into a smile was anything to go by.

Neri walked down the corridor with Anders at her side and pushed the doors to the dining hall open, taking in the sight of Coline slumped over the table, with Nathaniel rubbing her back, and the amused expressions of Arietta and Alistair as she did so.

"What's wrong with her?" Neri asked, a little bemused.

Arietta smiled up at them in greeting. "She had some of Max's brew," she sighed in explanation.

Anders snorted derisively at Neri's side. "Well, that was clever."

They both sat down at the table and Neri eyed Coline curiously. "So she's high right now?" she asked, already feeling a smirk tug at her lips.

"Oh no," Alistair said. "I know that look; you're about to do something devious, aren't you?"

Neri shot Alistair her most innocent smile, batting her lashes as much as possible. "Your Majesty! When have you ever known me to be devious?"

Alistair laughed, his hazel eyes alight with amusement. "That question should be when  _aren't_  you devious," he said, chuckling. "But so long as it isn't directed at us…" Arietta elbowed her husband, giving him a withering look and Neri grinned in response.

"What is it you plan, exactly?" Nathaniel asked.

Neri's grin dropped and she couldn't help but frown at wariness in Nathaniel's voice. It was as if he believed he would truly harm Coline and that made her feel cold inside. She forced a smile back to her face. "Oh, nothing… She'd probably shoot me with an arrow if I did anything to her anyway."

"I'd rather whip you," Coline slurred out as she lifted her head just enough to look at Neri, making everyone's eyes widen.

Neri just smirked back. "Our door is always open, Coline, but I figured there were  _other_  doors you'd rather be knocking on." Neri arched a brow, and let her eyes very briefly wander to Nathaniel before returning smugly to Coline.

The archer glared at her. "On second thought, I think a gag might be more appropriate," Coline mused, her voice still sounding a little slurred, but her eyes looked sharper, like the threat of Neri spilling Coline's not-so-secret crush had sobered her right up.

"And miss hearing my pretty little moans?" Neri asked, biting her lip enticingly, making Coline narrow her eyes further.

"Maybe we should change the subject?" Alistair asked, as the blush creeping up his neck threatened to reach his cheeks too.

Anders chuckled. "Why? It was just getting interesting."

Arietta smiled, rolling her eyes. "I trust you all had good nights?" she asked.

Neri couldn't help but think of her nightmare and she frowned a little. Anders noticed and squeezed her hand under the table, offering her a small reassuring smile. She leaned into his shoulder, sighing slightly.

"Apart from the card game…" Nathaniel cleared his throat, cheeks flushed slightly. "It was most enjoyable, Commander," Nathaniel answered with a small smile.

Neri quirked a brow at the rogue, smirking slightly. "What happened at the card game?" Neri asked.

"What didn't happen?" Coline suddenly blurted, grinning as she glanced at Nathaniel, who just shook his head in response.

"It's probably best if we don't get into that again," Arietta interrupted, sounding a little exasperated.

"So… what now?" Anders asked, looking to Arietta for a response.

The Commander inhaled deeply. "Well, there's still much to be done. Rebuilding mostly. We'll have the Crown's soldiers to assist soon with that, though."

Neri yawned. "Rebuilding sounds dull. You heard from Fergus at all?" she asked instead. "About the wedding, I mean, 'cause I reckon that will be  _much_  more entertaining." Neri smirked at Coline and the archer squeezed her eyes shut, visibly cringing at Neri's lack of tact.

Arietta was frowning too. "I have," she replied carefully. "It's in two weeks' time."

"Excellent," Neri purred. "That gives Coline and Nate here enough time to plan properly."

Arietta's frown deepened. "What are you talking about?"

Coline groaned and buried her head in her arms, hiding her face from view. Neri just smirked as she looked to Arietta. "I think Coline should be allowed to assassinate her father at the wedding," she said candidly. Arietta's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to argue but Neri silenced her with a wave of her hand. " _But_  I said she would need to plan it properly first. Nathaniel will help. And if you are not completely happy with the plan they come up with then you can call it off. Sounds fair, right?"

"No, I do not think that sounds-"

"Come on, Ari. The guy's a monster; he deserves to die."

"So we call the guard and arrest-"

"No," Coline spoke up, head raised and brown eyes hard as ironbark. "He ruined  _my_  life. I have to be the one to end him, to stop him."

"What did he do, exactly?" Alistair asked quietly.

Coline sighed heavily. "He has been acquiring wealth through marriage and murder for years. He kicked me out when I was just a child, forcing me to live on the streets. I had to sell myself just to get by. And the times he did see me, he pitted me against my stepmother, making me think it was her that was the wicked one, the one who had ordered me thrown out. He fed me sob story after sob story of how it was  _her_ , always her, taking his money, threatening to take our family home. So, I… killed her," she said, swallowing hard. "But turns out she was innocent. It was  _him_  all along," she spat harshly. "And now my father means to kill my stepsister if he cannot force her to marry, because at least then he will get her share of her mother's inheritance."

"And we're letting this man attend Fergus' wedding?" Alistair asked, voice raised slightly.

Arietta rubbed at her temples. "He is still nobility in Orlais. Many have been invited," she explained. "And look, Coline, I know what he is and what he has done, but this is my brother's  _wedding_. After everything he has been through –losing his wife, his child… our whole family- I want this day to be perfect for him. I want him happy."

"I thought you might say that," Neri mused, smirking. "So I sent him a raven last week."

Arietta's mouth fell open. "You did  _what_?"

"And I asked him if he would be okay with it. He was. Then I asked him to go check with Lacie. He said he already did and that she wanted this man dealt with; she even offered to bring in some Orlesian assassins if Coline wanted assistance."

Arietta closed her eyes, a small laugh escaping her. "Alright," she conceded. "Fine."

"I… I can go to the wedding then?" Coline asked, astonished.

Arietta nodded. "If the bride and groom have both given their consent then who am I to say no?"

"You're the Queen of Ferelden, love," Alistair said in a quiet aside to her, smiling crookedly.

She chuckled, bumping into his shoulder playfully. "Thank you for reminding me, dear." She looked back to Coline. "But I  _do_  have to approve this plan first."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Coline gushed. "You won't regret this, I promise, Commander."

Arietta smiled, hoping the archer was right.

"I figure Zev should be able to help out too, once he gets here," Neri said, frowning a little as a shiver ran up her spine. "At the very least, he should have some  _interesting_  ideas."

Coline gave her a nod. "I already have the poison I intend to use; it is one of Rafael's," Coline explained. "He just needs to finish making it for me."

"Very well," Arietta said.

The doors opened again, this time admitting the two dwarves into the dining hall. Both Oghren and Sigrun were snickering to themselves as they walked in together.

"Good night, I take it?" Arietta asked with a coy smile.

"Heh, every night with Oghren's a good night," Oghren boasted, laughing loudly.

Sigrun rolled her eyes, her lips pulled into a smile. "I've had better."

Oghren snorted loudly. "You weren't complaining last night, woman."

"I didn't say it wasn't fun, Oghren, just that I've had better," she said as she took a seat at the table.

"Hmph!" Oghren huffed out as he joined her.

"Oh, come on now," Arietta chided. "The Oghren I know would take that as a challenge," she mused.

Oghren cleared his throat. "You're right!" He turned to look at Sigrun. "I'll give your Deep Roads a sodding good ploughing, woman, and show you how the sword-caste  _really_  got their name."

Sigrun could barely contain her smile, but she managed to shrug nonchalantly. "We'll see." The little dwarf looked back to the Commander, smiling. "But that wasn't why we were laughing," she said, smirking. "You'll see in a little while."

Oghren took a long pull of his drink and then slammed it down with a loud belch. "So, Howe," Oghren spoke up. "Got all your clothes back then?"

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "Yes, no thanks to you or Rafael," he muttered as he continued to eat his breakfast.

Oghren grinned toothily, clearly highly amused. "Heh, those Talkers sure showed you."

Nathaniel looked up at the dwarf, grey eyes icy. "Yes, I am quite aware of what they  _showed_  me."

Sigrun snickered. "Yeah… I don't want to see another naked darkspawn ever again, especially after Herak turned it into an anatomy lesson."

Neri snorted. "Did you all have an orgy while Anders and I were gone, or something?"

"No," Nathaniel grumbled. "The card game just got very… out of hand."

Coline burst out laughing again. "That's one way to put it!" she cackled, making Nathaniel groan.

Oghren turned his attention to Neri, already grinning as he eyes Anders and her. "So, Twiglet, did you and Sparkle-Fingers grease up the ol' Bronto last night?"

Neri crinkled her nose at that. Why use Deep Road euphemisms?" she groused.

"Not your thing, eh?" Oghren asked with a waggle of his bushy red brows.

"No, I rather think I'll leave fucking in the Deep Roads to Max and Raf."

" _Max!_ " Rafael suddenly half laughed, half hissed from the doorway as he staggered against it. "You told them about the Deep Roads!?"

Arietta watched the rogue glare at the mage, his composure cracking, laughter clearly threatening to spill from his lips if the way his mouth kept twitching was anything to go by. Clearly Max  _had_  been successful in getting Rafael to drink his special brew, even if the rogue was doing a better job at fighting its effects than Coline.

Max's nervous laughter filled the room, and he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uhh, yeah, in a drinking game, the one we played while you were stuck in the Black Marsh, but I mean, that was a really long time ago, like a  _really_  long time, and everybody had to drink when someone said something that you had done and-"

"Oh  _please!_ " Coline objected. "He gladly told us that story!" she said, smiling much like a cat might, her eyes gleaming, and it reminded Neri of something, someone… She frowned as she tried to recall the details, her head throbbing slightly. She swallowed, confused as to why she kept getting headaches today, she brushed it off as a poor night's sleep and instead focused back on poor Max.

"I'd had alcohol, a lot of it! I'm a lightweight and you know how I get when drunk, I never meant to-"

"It's  _fine_ , Max!" Rafael said far too cheerfully as he clapped Max on the back, hard, making the mage wince. Max swallowed, blue eyes worried and uncertain but Rafael grinned at him. "You'll pay for that, and for slipping me your ridiculous brew," he said with way too much cheer, before he started to chuckle to himself as he walked to the table. By the time he reached the table, Rafael was laughing hard, almost manically so.

Max gulped. "You don't mean right now, do you?" Max squeaked as he followed after his lover.

"Of course!" Rafael replied, laughing.

Max's eyes widened. "What… what are you going to do?" he asked nervously.

Rafael grinned wolfishly at the mage, grabbing his hand and tugging him down into the seat next to him. "I'm going to tell them a story, Max. You like those, don't you?"

"I like  _nice_  stories," he whined.

Rafael smirked. "This is a  _very_  nice story."

Maxime hung his head in response, body tense as he waited for the inevitable embarrassment.

"You are in so much shit, Max," Neri snickered. Max nodded his head, his lips pouting in reply.

Rafael cleared his throat dramatically, and everyone leaned forward in their seats, waiting eagerly for the story to be told.

"So, when we first started dating, Max was a nervous wreck." The mage in question groaned, closing his eyes, obviously realising the story Rafael was going to tell. A little giggle left Rafael's lips before bit on his lip, trying to regain his composure. "He was constantly worried he would do something to ruin things between us. But one night, while I was working late, Max snuck into my room, deciding to surprise me with candles and a hot bath. Only, by the time I retired to my room, Max had already fallen asleep on my bed, naked, and sprawled out across it."

Max cringed slightly, burying his face in his hands.

Rafael just smiled wolfishly again. "I crept into the room, shutting the door quietly behind me, and then I slammed my hands down onto the bed while shouting ' _boo_ '. Max scrambled off of the bed, scared shitless, and crashed straight into the bedside cabinet – the one with the lit candles." Rafael started to snicker again, unable to keep a straight face. "The candles all fell over, and the next thing I heard was a loud  _whoosh_  sound, followed by Max's panicked screaming as he turned around to face me, giving me a full view of his now-flaming-pubes!"

Everyone laughed and Max just buried his head further into his arm, a blush visible on his ears and neck.

Rafael was snickering hard, trying to keep his laughter in check but failing. "He grabbed a bottle of  _oil_  next, thinking it was water, and tried to douse the flames with it – you should have seen his face as the fire exploded upwards, catching on his beard too," he laughed out. "I found water after that, and put the flames out, seeing as Max had apparently forgotten he was a mage," he added with a smirk. "By the time we'd done that, there was nothing left of his pubes but peach fuzz."

"That's why you called him Fuzzy that one time in the yard!" Anders said with a laugh.

"My cock was fine though, in case any of you were wondering," Max added, his cheeks a bright rosy red.

Neri grinned. "You got any more stories, Raf?"

The rogue started to snicker again. "There was this one time we were in Duke Ferdinand's court and Max-"

"That's quite enough for one day!" Max blurted, rushing to cover Rafael's mouth with his hand. "I'm sorry I tricked you into drinking the brew, and I'm sorry I told them about the Deep Roads! I won't ever do it again, I promise, just please, please, please leave the story telling to me!"

Rafael grinned from underneath Max's hand, nodding and Max sat back down in his seat, sighing in relief. "I think you owe Coline an apology too, for using her to trick me into drinking it," Rafael said with a sly smile.

"You're right, I do." Maxime turned to Coline, offering her an apologetic smile. "I am  _so_  sorry I used you in order to get to Raf. That was cruel of me. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Of course, dear," Coline said way too sweetly. " _If_  you drink your extra special brew yourself." She smiled brightly and Max's face dropped.

"Do I have to?" he whined. They all nodded and Max sighed. " _Fine,"_  he huffed dramatically as he got up from the table and slinked off back to his quarters to get the brew.

Rafael chuckled darkly. "Feel free to ask Max anything you like; I slipped a little something into his flask after he drugged me."

Sigrun arched a brow, grinning. "What did you add?"

"A truth draught."

Coline smiled, her eyes darkening in delight. "Oh, this  _will_  be good."

A few moments later Max was back, holding his flask. "I'm so going to talk all of your ears off, you realise that, right?"

"You have  _no_  idea," Coline said with a wicked smile.

Max's brows furrowed slightly, before he tossed back the drink.

Neri waited a long few minutes for the drink to take effect while the others small talked. Finally Raf gave her a slight nod, indicating that the potion should have taken effect.

She was about to ask her first question, but Max opened his mouth before she got the chance.

"I need to fart so bad," he muttered. His eyes widened, and he looked up, glancing at their shocked faces. "Did… did I just say that out loud?"

They all cracked up laughing and Max groaned, his cheeks turning red.

Neri grinned. "Got anything else you want to get off your chest, Max? Any deep dark secrets?"

"I once stole Coline's hot oil for me and Raf to use and then said Oghren drank it all," he blurted.

"Hey!" Oghren groaned, frowning. "I don't drink oil."

Coline snickered. "I always knew it was you, Max, you smelled of Antivan spices for  _days_."

Max blushed. "It was  _really_  nice oil."

Coline's lips turned up in a smile. "I know."

The red-head bit his lip a moment, but seemed unable to hold anything back for long. "And I think Ser-Pounce-A-Lot is the cutest name  _ever_  for a cat."

"It is, isn't it?" Anders replied smugly, grinning ear to ear. Neri rolled her eyes, smiling.

"But I'm jealous of Barkspawn." Max pouted slightly. " _I_  want ear scratches but Rafael never gives them to me."

Rafael burst out laughing. "You've never even  _asked_ , Max."

"Because I was worried you'd say no!"

The rogue shrugged. "Maybe."

"We all have our kinks, sweetie," Coline purred from across the table. "Speaking of… what are yours, Max?"

"Ooh, good one," Neri cooed. "Got any wild fantasies?"

Max narrowed his eyes at them. "Why are you asking me all of these questions, and why am I answering?" He frowned. "I've always wanted a threesome, with me in the middle and Raf below. To feel that  _full_ … that overwhelmed with sensation." He sighed dreamily.

Rafael quirked a brow in amusement. "And just who exactly did you want to be the third participant?"

"Anders," Max blurted, before clamping a hand over his mouth in shock.

Rafael's brows lifted in surprise, and Anders grinned smugly.

"Nope! Not happening, not unless I can be there too," Neri replied, laughing.

"If there is already four, have you room for one more?" Coline asked, giggling girlishly. "I can bring that hot oil you so adore."

"I'm in and I don't even like girls," Max said enthusiastically.

"Are you really planning an orgy at the breakfast table?" Arietta asked, frowning slightly.

"Hey, war's over! Gotta celebrate somehow," Neri answered with a wink.

Arietta rolled her eyes.

"And you're not even considering including us? I'm hurt," Alistair teased.

Neri snorted. "You'd only say no if I invited you anyway, like every other time I've left my door open for you."

"Wait, you actually do leave it open? Every night?" Alistair asked, surprised.

"Of course. The more the merrier, yes?" Neri shivered at her own choice of words, as a strange sense of déjà vu overwhelmed her for a brief moment.

"Neri…" Arietta groaned, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"One day you'll go for it," Neri mused, smirking playfully.

The doors opened then, and the four darkspawn entered the hall, dragging their feet as they walked, heads lowered, hoods over much of their faces. Neri nearly choked on her laughter as she noticed Dular wearing tinted glasses over his eyes.

" _That's_  why Oghren and I were snickering earlier," Sigrun explained, already starting to laugh again.

Neri's entire face lit up as she grinned at the darkspawn. "You're  _hungover_!" she laughed out loudly. And the others around the table laughed too, surprise written on their faces.

Tethar groaned, tugging his hood lower over his head. "You being too loud," he groused, voice hoarser than usual.

Neri snickered quietly into her palm. "So sorry."

"This being the hangover you warned us of?" Dular asked as he rubbed at his temple, the glasses across his face still making Neri giggle uncontrollably.

"Definitely."

"Dular was the worst off, so I gave him my glasses," Sigrun explained, grinning cheekily.

"Hardly surprising considering the amount of alcohol he consumed last night," Arietta said with a smile as she watched the darkspawn sink down into seats at the table, groaning and holding their heads. Shakil seemed fairly well off compared to his hurlock brothers, only looking a bit queasy.

"You could have  _my_  hangover cure…" Max offered with a smirk.

" _No_!" Everyone at the table said at once, making Max laugh and raise his hands in defeat.

"The dwarf be saying he have a cure too, but it not be working," Herak growled out as he rested his head against the table.

"Heh, could try getting drunk again; that always works for me," Oghren replied.

"Would that be stopping my stomach from rolling around too?" Shakil asked with a groan.

Oghren grinned. "It might just."

"Oghren, the last thing we need is four drunk darkspawn running around my Keep,  _again_ ," Arietta interrupted. "I can't very well send them back to the Architect drunk, can I?"

Anders and Neri giggled. "Well you  _could_ ," they both said in unison, making Arietta smile and shake her head.

"Velanna would be the one having to babysit them, right?" Alistair asked, amused.

Arietta dipped her head slightly. "Yes, seeing as she's leaving with them today."

"Mm, definitely not a good idea them being drunk then; I've seen her set things on fire, it's not pretty," Alistair said before taking a sip of his wine.

"When are you all leaving anyway?" Neri asked the darkspawn.

"Ehh, when the pain be stopping," Tethar muttered.

"Ha! That might be a while, I'm afraid," Neri said with a sympathetic smile.

The darkspawn groaned.

Neri chewed on her lip and then sighed a little. "I did want to ask… about my blood. If I give it to you guys to take to the Architect, will he try to figure out why my blood is so  _unique?_ "

"Yes, he be wanting to do that for much time now," Herak responded. "He may also be freeing more of our kind too, though."

Neri nodded thoughtfully. "If he did, they would be like the four of you?"

"That be the plan," Dular answered.

She smiled. "Then… you can have some of my blood to take back too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tinted glasses, hungover darkspawn? Am I mad. Yes, probably. I figure all dwarves have tinted glasses with the lava flows in the Deep Roads, okay, so just go with it. As for the darkspawn.... well that was just too comical not to add, yes? 
> 
> As always, thanks for the comments and support guys! And a massive thanks to my beta, ElyssaCousland. Please keep the comments coming! Was this one too crazy? Funny at all? Let me know <3


	56. Answers We Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anniversary chapter! *happy screaming*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I am so gonna gush at you all but I'll do it at the end of the chapter. But I cannot believe I've been posting this for an entire year now!

Neri sat up on the battlements, legs swinging over the edge of the wall. The stone was cold, seeping easily through her thin clothing, but that wasn't the reason she felt cold; she kept dwelling on her nightmare, on the array of headaches she had continued to get throughout the day, of the strange déjà vu and shivers she kept getting. Something was wrong, she just couldn't figure out what.

The door creaked open behind her and Anders stepped out, not that she needed to turn to know it was him; the feel of his taint and the way he walked gave him away easily. He came to sit next to her, giving her a small smile.

"I thought you'd be at the tree; looked everywhere for you before finally spotting you up here."

"Sorry," she mumbled back, frowning slightly. "I wanted somewhere quiet to think."

"About?"

She inhaled deeply and then let it out in a rush. "Something feels…wrong," she admitted, her frown deepening. He watched her, head slightly tilted as he tried to make sense of her words. She glanced at him. "Have you felt strange at all today, like something is amiss?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so?"

Her gaze returned to the cloudy horizon. "I keep shivering, getting déjà vu… I feel like something  _happened._  I just don't know what." She let out a frustrated groan as she slapped her hands down on the cold stone either side of her. "The last time I felt this muddled it was because of that fucking blood mage taking my memories."

"You think she's done it to you again?" Anders asked, obviously dubious, his voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

"No." She sighed. "I don't know. I  _do_  keep getting headaches though."

His eyes softened slightly as he shook his head. "You didn't say anything," he gently admonished as he instinctively lifted his hand to her head, the soft glow of his magic lighting up the space between them as it began to relieve her throbbing head.

"I thought they might be due to lack of sleep… that nightmare. But…" She watched as Anders frowned, his forehead crinkling. "What is it?" she asked. The glow of magic between them intensified and then Anders pulled his hand away, a puzzled look on his face.

"It's… resisting my magic," he explained. "I can't tell what's causing it either."

She swallowed. "What does that mean?"

"It means you might be right."

Neri felt all the blood leave her face. "The blood mage?" she choked out.

Anders ran a hand through his hair, anxiously, his eyes flickering as he tried to piece things together. "Blood magic is the one thing I can't easily heal," he said quietly in confirmation.

"It's only since this morning that I've felt off," she explained quickly, shifting to face him better. "My last clear memory from last night is of me in your lap. You were slowly undressing me, your hand in my pants..." She frowned, trying to think exactly how things had progressed afterwards.

"You don't recall our night together after that?" Anders asked, unable to hide the hurt from his voice.

Neri shook her head. "It's hazy," she said with a slight hesitation. "At first I thought the nightmare was just too fresh for me to remember properly, but now that I'm actually thinking about it…" She rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing wearily.

"Why would I be able to remember and not you, though? We made love, fell asleep, and later you woke with that nightmare. I think I'd remember if a crazy blood mage came in and poked around your mind."

"That's assuming she only poked around in  _my_  mind," Neri said ominously.

Anders shivered and looked away from her, scowling at the horizon. "What do we do then?" he asked quietly.

"I'm going to speak to Velanna," Neri replied. "She's going to be working with the Architect so there's a chance she might spot the blood mage."

"The Talkers know about the blood mage too. We could ask them what she looks like?" he suggested hopefully.

Neri nodded. "I'll see what Tethar has to say about it." She hopped up to her feet.

"Hey," Anders said softly, grabbing her hand before she could walk away. "Try not to worry; I won't let anything happen to you, okay?" he said, meaning it, his molten gaze locked with hers, sincere and filled with concern.

Neri gave him a small sad smile. "Plenty already has." He let go of her hand,abruptly, his gut twisting with guilt. She sighed and moved to stand behind him, threading her hands through his hair. "Sorry," she said as she leaned down and kissed the top of his head, breathing him in. "That was uncalled for. I'm just... "

"Scared," he supplied tenderly.

"Yes," she whispered. He leaned back and looked up at her as she continued to knead his scalp with her delicate fingers. "It'll be alright," she said as much to herself as to him. "No matter what happens, as long as we have each other we'll be okay."

"Agreed."

"I love you."

"I love you too," he said with a soft smile.

"We'll have to make up for the sex I don't remember tonight, you know," she said as a wicked little smirk crept up one half of her face.

His eyes hooded over at the thought, "I look forward to it."

**…**

"Velanna?" Neri asked as she stood in the doorway to the Dalish' room.

"Neri," Velanna said without looking up.

"I uhh, I was hoping I could speak with you a moment. I know you're busy…"

Velanna shook her head, putting the robe set she was folding down on the bed in front of her before she faced Neri fully. "What did you wish to discuss with me?"

"It's about the Architect," she said, as she gently closed the door behind her. Velanna watched her carefully, her light eyes curious. "I need to ask you a favour."

"I see." Velanna tapped her chin with a finger. "And that would be?"

"I know you have orders to watch the Architect, to bring back reports; I know you are mostly going for your sister, however. And that's fine. I just need you to keep your eyes peeled for something else – well, someone really."

"The blood mage," Velanna guessed, correctly.

Neri nodded. "I need to know who or what she is, what she wants. I'll try to get answers out of Tethar, but I doubt I'll have much luck. As fond of me as they are, they are still loyal to the Architect and so far he has been very secretive about the blood mage."

"Should I identify this blood mage, what exactly do you wish me to do?"

"If she is a clear threat? Kill her."

Velanna's brows lifted in surprise. "The Architect may not be pleased with such action; I have strict orders from the Commander not to do anything that will jeopardise this alliance."

"I know."

Velanna pursed her lips. "I cannot promise anything, Neri; what you ask is not a simple favour. My sister will be down there with me, we will be surrounded by darkspawn, potentially days deep underground; I cannot risk my life and the life of my sister for you, but I  _will_  keep my eyes open."

Neri nodded. "Thank you. I guess that will have to do," she said as she shifted on her feet. "And hey... good luck down there; I don't envy you one bit."

Velanna smiled wearily. "I suppose there is little chance the darkspawn will decide to do its research in a forest instead."

Neri snorted. "That's about as likely as nugs flying, I would think."

Velanna let out a little sigh, picking up her robes to place them in her pack. "It's worth it for Seranni," she muttered.

Neri nodded, hoping it was true and not too late for the other Dalish.

**…**

It was late afternoon by the time the darkspawn had recovered from their hangovers, and it was time for them to leave. Shakil was the first to approach Neri, shuffling over to her a little awkwardly.

He looked up and then held something out to her; she opened her hand in response and he dropped something cold and heavy into it. She glanced down at the amulet with a slight frown before looking to the genlock with a questioning look.

"The archer be explaining about the amulets last night. The ones you be getting when you become Grey ones. You be putting blood in them to remember the Joining by."

Neri nodded, running her fingers over the intricate engravings on the amulet –pretty little wild flowers - with a smile.

"We be doing the same," Shakil explained as he lifted up an amulet around his own neck.

"Is it my blood in this, or yours?" she asked as she turned over the amulet, examining it further.

"Ours – be all four of ours, to remember us by."

She smirked, clutching the amulet a little tighter. "I doubt I could forget any of you." She put the amulet around her neck; the heavy metal clinked gently against her own Joining amulet before resting over the skin of her chest. "But thank you, Shakil. Stay safe, okay?"

He nodded. "You too."

Herak and Dular walked over to them then, grinning, and Dular slapped her hard on the back. "Keep killing well, we be comparing counts when we meet again."

Neri chuckled. "You're on."

Herak dipped his head to her. "Be seeing you, Slayer."

She nodded. "I've got something for you all actually," she said as she pulled the pack of cards out of her pocket and handed them to Herak. "I figured you'd like to play some more, seeing as you're already so good at it."

The darkspawn grinned.

"We be needing to play you some time too," Dular announced.

"I doubt it would be much of a game; I never was very good at cards."

Dular snorted, clasping her shoulder. "Then we be teaching you some time."

She nodded, smiling. The three darkspawn dispersed, heading back to the gate, and Tethar approached her, hood up and staff in hand.

"Be saying goodbye now," he said as he came to stand in front of her, looking down at her.

"Seems that way, yeah."

He looked down at the ground briefly, an almost sad expression on his face. "Be missing you," he said as he met her eyes once more with his own.

She nodded, smiling sadly. "If someone had told me I'd miss a darkspawn a few months back I would have called them mad, but you changed all of that, you all did." She pushed her hair out of her face and smiled up at him. "It'll be quiet around here without you lot."

"Because we not be stomping around now? You can be stomping too, just be putting more weight on your feet, and maybe some steel boots too."

She laughed. "No, I meant that you and the others were the life of the party last night, by the sounds of it."

He made a humming noise in his throat as he nodded thoughtfully and then his face lit up as he grinned. "Ah, be remembering something!" He rummaged through the pack on his back and then pulled out the journal she had given him the day before, before flicking it open on the first page. "Be drawing, like you suggested – this be what you missing last night." He showed her the drawing and her eyes widened, her mouth falling open.

"Holy shit," she muttered, astonished. "That's Nathaniel and that's –  _Oh my_." She couldn't stop staring at the page. "You're very good at drawing, got every little detail…"

Tethar snickered. "It be size accurate too," he said, making Neri laugh. "And there be these too." He turned the page again and Neri gasped as her eyes roamed over a drawing of her out on the battlefield, with the blood circling around her. Despite being drawn in charcoal, it was breathtakingly beautiful.

"Tethar…" she managed to get out, voice cracking. "These are incredible."

He grinned and flicked the page again and there was another drawing, one of all of the Wardens around the table drinking and laughing, except for Neri, who was holding that knife in her hand, a far-away look on her face.

"You saw me pick up the knife?"

Tethar nodded.

She sighed. "I keep losing control," she whispered, not looking him in the eye. "I don't know what to do."

His gauntleted fingers touched her chin, angling her head up so she was forced to look him in the eyes - another human gesture he had learned from them all. "Do not be worrying; you be strong, and we be finding you answers."

She smiled slightly, nodding and his hand fell away. "Speaking of answers…" He tilted his head and she swallowed. "The blood mage, do you know her? Have you seen her?"

Tethar looked away, uncertain. "I be seeing her, once," he admitted quietly.

Neri stepped closer to him. "Who is she? Does she have a name?"

"She be having many names."

"Tethar, please."

He clenched his jaw, his dark eyes flicking to her briefly. "We be calling her Chain Breaker," he whispered. "Because she be helping to free us. But she be watching, always watching." He glanced around, looking to the sky, and Neri remembered the blood mage taking bird form before. "We cannot be talking about her, Slayer," he said quickly, looking back down to her, his face contorted with worry.

"You're scared of her?"

Tethar let out a growl but didn't answer her.

"What does she want?"

Tethar shook his head. "Please, we must be going now," he said, trying to turn to leave.

"Okay, okay," Neri sighed, relenting. His shoulders slumped in relief. "Goodbye, Tethar; until we meet again," she said softly.

"Goodbye, Neri," he said as he pulled her into a hug, wrapping his long arms around her back. " _Stay out of the Depths_ ," he whispered in her ear, making her blood run cold.

Tethar pulled away, gave her one final sad nod, and then headed over to the gate where Arietta was speaking with the others. Neri swallowed thickly, watching his back as she mulled over all she had just learned before she moved to stand with Anders. She leant her head against his shoulder, needing to feel some of his warmth.

"Any luck?" he asked gently.

She shook her head slightly; if it really was dangerous to speak of the blood mage, then it was better not to repeat details.

Anders sighed slightly. "We'll figure it out, eventually," he encouraged, moving to wrap his arm around her shoulders so that her head rested against his chest instead. She could hear the steady beat of his heart and she smiled, nuzzling into him.

"I hope you're right," she replied.

The darkspawn waved them all goodbye, before setting off down the road with Velanna, and Arietta joined Neri and Anders with Alistair at her side a moment later. They all stood there in the yard, watching as the darkspawn slowly disappeared out of sight, the sun warming their skin, feeling a mix of sadness, worry and hope. Neri was glad to have the four talking darkspawn as allies, Tethar most of all, but his warning had put fear in her heart. There was clearly so much they still didn't know, and Velanna might now be their only hope for answers. One thing was certain though: Neri wanted to leave Ferelden now more than ever. She would stick around for Fergus' wedding and then she would be gone, hopefully with both of her lovers.

"I suppose we should get back to work," Arietta sighed.

Neri snorted. "Or we could just… not."

"Another evening off wouldn't hurt, would it?" Alistair asked.

"It's already getting late anyway…" Anders pointed out.

Arietta smiled. "Oh fine, but  _tomorrow_  we get back to work. We have a wedding and an assassination to plan for, after all," Arietta said with a cynical shake of her head as she turned to walk back into the Keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay okay! A whole year. Hooooly shit! Thank you all so much for reading this! Thank you to those who have bookmarked, left kudos, subscribed, left comments and read this. You are all amazing and I love you! I cannot thank my beta, ElyssaCousland enough for all of her support and hard work. You rock girl. <3 And another round of thank yous goes to the DA Writers and Reviewers Group for being amazingly supportive and a huge motivational boost. Shadow, Waffles, Cathy, Hatse, you're all the best.
> 
> I told you I was gonna gush ;p 
> 
> I'm sorry this wasn't a celebratory happy chapter to fit the anniversary - last week's really would have been better! - but this chapter sets things up for the final part of this fic, and 'Answers We Seek' is going to be the subtitle for part 2 of Sacrifices, so I guess that's cool. I just wanted to thank everyone for the comments on the last chapter - apparently I didn't fail at making things amusing so that's a success!
> 
> As it's an anniversary and I can do puppy eyes at you all I'd love it if you not only commented on this update - happy that Neri is figuring stuff out? Curious about Tethar's cryptic words? - but I'd love it if you told me your fave scene/OC/moment from the entire fic too. I know it's a lot to ask and you might be shy but I don't bite and I have put so much work into writing this that I would love to hear as many of you as possible popping in to comment. So please do!
> 
> I love you all dearly, and here's to hoping that you all stick around for another year of posting! I'll be back either next week or the week after with Fergus' wedding chapter... which is going to be interesting to say the least ;p


	57. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice shame on me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Firstly** , a warning on this chapter; it gets a bit grim with suicidal thoughts and stuff but only briefly. 
> 
> **Secondly** , this is the wedding/assassination chapter I'm worried I've been hyping up for far too long. I hope it doesn't disappoint but we'll see, I suppose. 
> 
> **Thirdly** , I did have this beta'd by the wonderful Elyssa Cousland (thanks love), I then decided to edit the fuck out of it... so any mistakes are me and my dumb tired brain. 
> 
> **Fourthly** (fourthly sounds weird, I don't think people usually do lists like this for this long) a **MASSIVE** thanks to all of you who reviewed/commented here. I love you all dearly. Seriously, you are incredible people and I want to chew on your cheeks. In an affectionate way of course... I'm not a cannibal. ;)
> 
> I need to give special thanks to **Kenau!** They blew my mind by reviewing the shit out of Sacrifices, literally every chapter in an epic binge read and gave me the most incredible and well-thought out reviews. And I was just all the grinning and blushing. So I give you all the hugging. Thank you so much!  <3 And I have a treat for you! (see the next point).
> 
> **Fifthly** (seriously, is this even a word?) I am writing a companion piece to Sacrifices (see end notes for a snippet of this.) Kenau, you started this. So it's for you. But I welcome suggestions - basically it's a _Neri/Anders/Raf/Max partner swap/foursome_. If there is something you want to see those four doing NOW is the time to tell me. I can't guarantee I will use it (at least not in part one - if there is a part two, however...) but all ideas are welcome. The only thing to bear in mind is that Max is gay. So anything with him and Neri needs to be handled.... carefully. Beyond that, I will write more or less anything if I can figure out how to fit it all together!
> 
> Alright. You can read now. Lmao.

Despite how crisp the morning had been, the day had warmed considerably with the sun shining brightly over them; perfect weather for a wedding and its ensuing garden party.

The wedding itself had been beautiful, held in Highever's refurbished Grand Hall. The high walls had been lined with pretty blue and yellow flowers, and the stained glass windows meant that the light streaming in through the windows lit up the room in brightly coloured rainbows. There had been a choir of singing children too, as Lacie walked down the aisle in her beautiful ivory gown. For an Orlesian, it had been a simple looking dress with a tight bodice and a long train, but it had looked gorgeous on her. And Fergus… Fergus had looked radiant in his dark blue doublet; it was the smile on his face and the shine in his eyes that had made Arietta's heart swell with warmth the most, though. It was so good to see him so happy; he truly deserved it.

There had, of course, been speeches and toasts, as well as food and drink after the ceremony. Most guests were simply enjoying the sunshine now, dancing slowly on the patio or enjoying the ocean view from the top of the grassy banks of Highever's gardens.

Arietta and Alistair were sitting on a stone bench together, sipping on their champagne. They had an excellent view of the entire garden from their spot – specifically, of Coline and her father. Per their agreement, Arietta had ordered that Coline wait until after the party to enact her assassination; there was a better chance, that way, of getting the man inebriated and alone, and thus easier to dispatch.

That was little comfort, however, and Arietta still felt uneasy about the entire thing. She wished she could be as relaxed as Neri and Anders were, giggling and dancing together out on the patio, or as unfazed as Fergus and Lacie were as they mingled with their guests, but she would always be a worrier.

Coline's father, Claude, was dancing with the Orlesian guests. Age didn't seem to matter to him, given the variety of dancing partners he'd had so far, but he  _did_  seem to be dancing with those that looked wealthy. He surrounded himself with women who had the most jewellery or the most extravagant of dresses. And Coline, her hair dyed black, watched him, dressed in waitress's garb, as she wandered around the patio providing guests with drinks.

One of the first plans they had discussed had involved Coline spiking his drink, but Arietta had refused such an idea immediately; there was too much risk that someone else might get poisoned instead, let alone the fact that he would probably end up dropping dead on the dance floor in view of everyone. No, the plan they had put in place was better, but Arietta still wasn't entirely convinced by it.

"Seems like our favourite Orlesian money-grabber is finally done dancing," Alistair commented from her side, as Claude headed inside the castle, most likely to relieve himself.

Arietta sighed, her eyes immediately finding Coline. The archer looked to her, giving her a nod which Arietta reluctantly returned. Coline headed inside and Arietta closed her eyes, exhaling loudly.

"Maker, I hope this goes well."

Alistair leaned in closer to her and planted soft kisses at her hairline. "So do I; I'm still not entirely comfortable with this whole idea. It's still an  _assassination_."

"I know," she replied, sighing. She turned her head to face him, lifting her hand to stroke the side of his face. "Come, we should head back to the patio, just in case."

* * *

Coline moved silently along the corridor, trailing after her father as he staggered down the halls. He looked slimmer than she recalled him being; he had always been a fairly tall and well-built man, but the man before her was gaunt and meek. He looked pathetic. A small part of her wondered why that was before she shook the thought away; it was probably part of some new ruse of his to look as weak and incapable as possible so that nobody would suspect him capable of murder. Her nose crinkled at the thought.

The corridor stank; she couldn't even keep track of just how many aromas clung to her father's clothes, a testament to how many women he had danced with and how much he had drank. She passed Nathaniel who had helpfully directed her father to one of the unoccupied washrooms in the east wing; he had also been in charge of seeing this area clear of other people. He looked worried but nodded at her all the same before taking his leave, heading back outside to wait for her signal that all was well.

It had been good working with him; she had learnt much about his childhood and his time in the Free Marches, and she was grateful for it. She didn't get quite so flustered around him now that she knew him more as a person, not to say that she didn't have feelings for him still. Quite the opposite in fact, of course she would  _never_  admit such a thing out loud and especially not to Neri. That damned elf had barged in on them 'accidentally' while they planned the assassination more times than Coline cared to count, obviously hoping to find them in the throes of passion. Coline had tried to explain to Neri that romance was not something she was capable of. Of course the little elf had simply said that sex and dating were two entirely different things, and that had sent Coline's mind wandering quite spectacularly. Those images started to return… Nathaniel looked incredible in his doublet with his long black hair down and hanging loosely around his face and shoulders; she wanted nothing more than to grab a fistful of it, twisting it the point where he cried out as she sucked on his neck, leaving a mark. She shook her head. No. She had a job to do. One she felt as if she had been planning for years; she would not mess it up now with such… obscene thoughts.

Her father was in the first floor washroom; she could hear him humming drunkenly to himself. She rolled her eyes, recognising the tune as an old Orlesian folk song, something about a rich woman with a bosom of gold. How charmingly appropriate. She checked the nearby rooms, just in case someone had snuck in under Nathaniel's watch. She found the place empty and smiled.

This plan of theirs was a simple one. She pulled out the little blade with the deadly poison coated tip, careful not to touch it. It was a sliver of silver, in truth, only capable of a slight pinprick but that is all she required. She hoped, given her father's drunken state, that he wouldn't even feel the prick as she poisoned him. Even if he did, she doubted he would know what she had done.

The door swung open, at last, and her father stumbled out. He hiked up his silk trousers and she found herself frowning slightly, wondering why he hadn't had them altered. He smoothed down the black velvet of his doublet and it was as he finished adjusting himself that she pricked him on the back of the neck; as she had suspected, he didn't feel a thing. She pocketed the blade again, carefully as it was still very much capable of poisoning another.

Her father stumbled forward, making for the garden. Coline breathed in deeply, trying to calm her nerves. She could just leave him. He'd die. The poison would take care of him. Of course he'd probably collapse on the patio, creating a spectacle, but it would mean she wouldn't need to face him, to do anything more. It would be the easy way out, the easy way of taking care of things. But if she had wanted him to die by poison she wouldn't have picked such a slow one.

"Father," she said, her voice a little shaky. She clenched her jaw, steeling herself as he drunkenly spun to face her, a confused frown on his face. He blinked a few times upon seeing her; obviously uncertain if what he was seeing was real.

"Coline?" he slurred, his face lighting in recognition. "I had no idea you were in attendance." He stumbled forwards, smiling. "It's so good to see you again. Maker, you've grown up. Your hair is different!" He frowned, "Why are you dressed as a waitress? I thought you were with the Wardens, I-"

"We should talk," she cut him off. She nodded to a nearby room before giving him her back. He followed her in, "Shut the door," she ordered before she walked over to the window. She gave Nathaniel, who waited below it, a nod. The dark haired rogue returned the gesture and moved away, back out onto the patio. She stared down at the guests all mingling below, some still eating and drinking, others out dancing on the patio. It was an odd feeling, seeing all of them acting so normally while she was here, about to kill her father.

"Coline?" her father asked, drawing her out of her thoughts. She turned to face him; his expression shifted from a worried frown to a grimace as he suddenly staggered forward. He clutched onto the bed, groaning. "Something's not right," he bit out. "Coline, help me." He reached out to her with his other hand.

She chuckled hollowly, watching detachedly as he collapsed onto his hands and knees. "Why would I do that?" she scoffed. " _I_  am the one who poisoned you." A look of horror settled over his face and she smiled. "Don't worry, it's not the same poison I used on Esme, this one kills  _much_  more slowly." His eyes widened briefly before he collapsed face first onto the stone ground.

Thankful that he weighed less than he used to, she dragged the deadweight of his body so that he was seated, resting against the edge of the bed; all he could do was groan in response, his eyes wide with fear. Good, she thought, that's how I felt when you threw me out on the streets.

"Wyghh," he slurred out, head lolling to one side.

"Why?" she asked, and he groaned in reply. She leaned in, resting her hand on the bed as she stared into his fear-filled eyes, "Because all along it was  _you_ ," she spat venomously. "You told me it was Esme who had forced me out onto the streets, that she was making your life a living hell. I believed you. I killed her because of you,  _for_  you!" she snarled. "But she was innocent; you manipulated and lied to me. You wanted her wealth and you weren't opposed to using your own daughter to get it."

She spaced the room, hands fisted. "Charmaine showed me the documents; she told me everything. You have murdered and married your way into wealth over and over." She shook her head angrily. "I don't know if you killed my mother too… but it would not surprise me," she said coolly. "And I know you'll take Charmaine's inheritance next, unless I stop you." She glanced at her father, her lips twisting in disgust at the sight of saliva dribbling out of his mouth, his face twitching grotesquely as he tried to move his head.

"You were willing to see me  _hanged_. If the Wardens hadn't taken me in…" She hung her head, her jaw set as her ire increased. "Your own daughter!" She stared at him, her eyes turning hard, accusing. "How could you? How could you do that to me?" Her lip quivered slightly but she reined it in, focusing on the anger instead. "After everything I endured on the streets,  _selling_  myself," she said, voice breaking as tears threatened to spill from her eyes, "you were willing to let me  _die_." She shook her head, seething.

He made a gargling sound as his mouth twitched, obviously trying to talk. "I paralysed you for a reason," she snapped sharply, "I didn't want to give you the chance to fill my head with more bullshit."

He managed to move his neck enough for a golden cord to slide out from under the collar of his doublet; he let out a desperate sounding gargle and curiosity got the better of her. She leaned in and lifted the cord up. A small gasp left her lips as she recognised the intricate gold amulet. Her mother's amulet. It was worth a fortune and yet he still had it on him, still wore it around his neck, close to his heart. She stared into his eyes, scowling.

"What is this? Some kind of mocking trophy of your first kill?" she growled. He tried to shake his head even as more garbled words left his slack lips. "Maybe not," she said as she thumbed the amulet. "This changes nothing, however. You might have loved her, but you certainly didn't love me. You wouldn't have put me through all of that if you did," she said harshly. "Do you know how many times I had to go to the clinic after some disgusting man touched me? How many times they only agreed to heal me if they could fuck me afterwards like the whore I was? How many times I cried myself to sleep at night wishing I was back home with you?" She let out a shaky breath. "I tried to kill myself, I had the dagger in my hand… aimed right over my heart; I had learnt the perfect way to slip it up between the ribs. It would have been quick, not painless, but then nothing in my life ever had been. But I couldn't do it."

Her jaw clenched and she pulled out her dagger. It was a wickedly sharp curved blade: the first blade she had been given as a Warden at the start of her new life. How apt that she would use it to end the last remnants of her old one. The dark metal glinted in the sunshine pouring in through the window, and her father's eyes got impossibly wide, white with fear.

She leaned in close enough to feel his sour panted breath against her cheek. "I won't hesitate to end your life, though." He twitched, desperately trying to free himself of the paralysis. "Adieu." She plunged the dagger deep into his black heart, twisting it as he gasped, and then stilled beneath her.

She dropped to her knees next to him, staring into his open dead eyes as tears finally spilled from her own. She was shaking, her hands trembling badly and she fisted them in her lap. She had thought this would feel good. She thought she would be relieved to finally be rid of him. She was taking control of the situation, deciding his fate while getting justice and closure for herself and so many others. But she didn't feel any of those things. She just felt hollow, empty, like she had just lost the final piece of her humanity. It had been bad before, being an assassin, a murderer, but now she was guilty of patricide, too. Was there anything worse than killing a member of your own family? It had to be done, she reminded herself. She tried to focus on the rage again but the emptiness inside her seemed to have devoured even that.

The door creaked open and she didn't even have it in her to be worried about some stranger walking in on her. Thankfully, it was Charmaine. The blonde's face crumpled upon seeing Coline on her knees and sobbing. "Oh sweetie," she gushed as she closed the door and locked it. She fell to her knees at Coline's side and pulled her into a tight hug. "Shh," she said as Coline sobbed into her shoulder, "It's over, you did it, it's okay." Coline just trembled against her, unable to speak. What was there to say? "You've saved lives," Charmaine reminded her, "You've saved  _mine_. I – I cannot imagine how hard that must have been, but thank you. Truly." She pulled back and gave Coline a small sad smile. "Come. What's next?"

"I… need to go to the window again. Let the others know it's done," Coline rasped.

Charmaine nodded and got to her feet. Coline returned to staring at her father's corpse, feeling cold without Charmaine's warmth against her. "Here," Charmaine said as she held out a kerchief. Coline took it gratefully and blew into it. She turned to thank the blonde but something took her in the side of the head and the last thing she saw was the hard stone floor racing up to greet her.

* * *

"She's been gone a while, perhaps we should-" Arietta began as she paced on the patio.

Neri snorted, shaking her head a little. "Coline'll put a dagger in  _you_  if you go and interrupt her during this."

"Right, and do you really want to walk in there and watch this man get murdered?" Alistair asked.

Arietta stopped pacing and ran a hand through her hair. "But what if-"

"Commander, we planned this thoroughly," Nathaniel argued pensively. "We already saw her at the bedroom window; we know she got him into the room without trouble. Just give her some space."

Arietta sighed, shoulders slumping. "Fine. Ten more minutes, though, and I'm sending one of you inside to check on things."

* * *

It was with great effort that Coline finally managed to open her eyes. Her sight was blurry but blinking was suddenly exhausting so, instead, she tried to lift her hand up to rub her eyes. It was then that she realised that she couldn't move at all. Dread settled over her like a thick quilt, almost suffocating her. She was paralysed, more specifically, poisoned. She heard a soft melodic chuckle and her stomach dropped in realisation.  _Charmaine_ . The blonde was standing over her, smiling, just as Coline had been doing mere moments before with her father, and in the blonde's hand was the tiny poisoned blade that Coline had used to prick her father with.

"A wicked little thing," Charmaine commented idly as she admired the small blade. "Impressive that something so small could pack such a punch. Am I right in guessing that it's lethal? One prick is enough to both paralyse and kill? You don't strike me as the sort of person to leave much to chance." Coline let out a gargled growl and Charmaine's icy blue eyes peered down at her, smug and uncaring. "I suppose you learnt a thing or two on the streets then.

"I half expected you to just lie down and die after your father threw you out, you know, but you didn't." She smiled maliciously, "Although… I suppose you took to a  _different_  sort of lying down instead," she mused, clearly thinking herself hilarious. She leant down to look at Coline, a twisted smirk on her lips. "Tell me: what was it like to have men touching you like that? Having them ram their filthy little pricks into you and all for a few measly coppers?" Coline let out another garbled growl. This wasn't happening, Charmaine was not doing this, planning to kill her –  _killing_ her; she was already infected with the lethal poison, after all. How had she gone from being perfectly in control of the situation, having planned everything meticulously to  _this?_  How had she not considered that the blonde might have ulterior motives? And if she was capable of this then what else was she capable of doing? Dread's cold fingers snaked their way around Coline's heart and squeezed.

Charmaine sighed and straightened, flicking her long blonde ringlets back over her shoulders. "But where are my manners?" she asked, smiling with false sweetness. "I should be  _thanking_  you. With your father dead and my mother murdered, I see to inherit all of their wealth, or I shall once you and his third wife have been taken care of. A suicide sounds perfect, don't you think? Losing her son and now her husband and all in such a short span of times must be simply terrible for the poor woman, and she always was sickly, hence why she isn't in attendance today. Between you and your father I have the perfect cover, nobody will be surprised to hear that you killed one another, you because of hatred and him in self-defence. I will be a very wealthy woman indeed."

Coline's entire body was burning with restrained rage, her fingers twitching, desperate to be able to strange that bitch's pretty little neck, but she couldn't move. The only things she had slight control over were her mouth and eyes, and even then was a struggle, but it would have to be enough.

"It won't make up for what you did, however. Murdering my mother," Charmaine bit out through clenched teeth. "I always knew it was possible that you'd return and cause trouble for us… I did not expect you to take things quite so far, however," she said tightly, her lips twisting into a rueful smile. "I won't underestimate you like that again."

She paced, her heels echoing loudly across the stone. "I nearly had you before, too; the hangman's noose was all but around your neck, thanks to me, but your bloody father just had to intervene and tell the Wardens of your kill, didn't he?"  _No,_ Coline thought, don't tell me this; I don't want to hear this! Charmaine seemed to sense her dread and she laughed.

"Oh yes. He always loved you, always wanted the best for you, and you believed my lies over his words, over  _years_  of parenting. And all because it was easier to believe him a villain for kicking you out rather than the victim he always claimed to be while you were the one suffering on the streets." She laughed again and the sound cut through Coline like glass. No, no, no. He  _was_  a villain; he had to be – all of those murders, everything he had done-! He didn't love me, he used me, she thought, her mind practically screaming the words, hoping to drown out the blonde's words. But what Charmaine was saying was true. It  _was_  easier. She was used to being treated like shit; she couldn't trust anyone, didn't want to because it always hurt too much. Learning that her father was a monster… she had simply accepted it. It made sense. There was nobody else good in her life, so why would he be such? And he had done  _so_  little. He visited, occasionally, moaned about Esme and then left again; always looking like being with her was the last thing he wanted to do. After learning what he had done she had reasoned that to mean that he simply visited to sway her to do his dirty work… but if he loved her then… then it probably meant he hated seeing her like that. Her eyes flooded with tears and she could feel her throat constricting painfully. Maker, what have I done? she thought as a coldness settled over her.

Charmaine grinned as she leaned forward and grabbed hold of Coline's face; she tilted it so that Coline had no choice but to stare at her dead father where he sat, propped up still, next to her with her dagger left buried in his chest. "You killed the only man ever capable of loving you," Charmaine whispered harshly and a sob left Coline's lips as the tears fell once more down her cheeks.

The blonde pulled back, and walked over to her bag instead; she pulled out a handful of papers, letters, Coline realised with a sinking feeling in her gut. "Messages he tried to send you," Charmaine explained. "I stopped them from ever reaching you, of course, but just  _look_  at them all." She threw the letters into the air, laughing as they landed over Coline's unmoving body. Coline watched them flitter down, watched them land on her; she immediately recognised her father's overly neat scrawl and her heart clenched. There were too many letters to count. Some were long, others short. He must have been writing to her weekly.  _Weekly_. All of her anger was gone. All of her fight. She couldn't carry on, not now, not after this. Maker, what had she done?

"How does it feel? Killing your own father, an innocent man?" Charmaine asked, clearly pleased. Even if Coline could talk, she wouldn't have an answer for her. She felt numb, that hollow emptiness now all consuming. She would welcome death's embrace, at least then she would see her father again, get to apologise to him… and mother would be there too; Coline wouldn't be alone anymore. Death from the poison would be painless; she would just fall asleep as everything slowly shut down. A blade to her heart or across her throat would be quicker but she wasn't sure if Charmaine would have the guts for something like that. Either way, she was dead. She could try to fight… but what would be the point? After everything, after what she had just  _done_ , death sounded nice, it sounded deserved.

Charmaine seemed annoyed by her lack of response so she came and crouched in front of Coline so that she had a clear view of the blonde's smirking lips. Charmaine pulled out a golden amulet from around her neck, her eyes glistening smugly. Coline hissed, nearly choking on the saliva pooling in her mouth. That was her mother's amulet! "Such a lovely piece of jewellery," Charmaine said, with a cruel smile. "I think I'll sell it or maybe I'll have it melted down. It does look rather dated now, don't you agree?" Coline's anger was back, full force. That fucking bitch. She was going to  _kill_  her even if it was the last thing she ever did. Charmaine just smiled as she tucked the amulet back under her dress.

Coline managed to flick her tongue over her tooth in her rage, dislodging the capsule she had hidden there. She bit down into it, breaking it open, and her mouth was flooded with a bitter liquid: the taste of Rafael's antidote. She would need to slap him later for claiming that even if paralysed it was still easy to access the antidote when it was in your mouth – clearly he had never tried himself.

Charmaine yanked out the dagger still buried in her father's chest, turning the blood coated blade over in her hand with a smug smile, apparently she did have the guts to do it. She hoped this antidote worked quickly or this bitch was going to get away with everything – she would not allow that to happen! "I am going to enjoy this." Charmaine leaned in menacingly until Coline could smell the sweet scent of her perfume and the fruity wine on her breath. "Adieu," she growled, mockingly echoing Coline's earlier statement.

Coline's entire body suddenly sprang into action, finally responding to her will. She disarmed the blonde in a flash, knocking the blade aside before she kicked her backwards. Charmaine grunted from the force of the blow as she crashed into a cabinet; her head snapped back to Coline, her face twisted in anger.

"You bitch," Charmaine hissed as she moved away from the cabinet, squaring off against Coline.

Coline got to her feet and cracked her neck. "Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you," she spat back, before charging at the blonde.

Coline slammed into her, tackling her backwards, straight into – and through – the window. They both screamed as the dropped through the air and crashed down onto one of the many garden tables.

Coline was momentarily dazed as she rolled off of the broken table, groaning in pain. Her knees scraped over broken glass as she struggled to get up. Her head was ringing, filled with the rush of blood and the screams of guests; she ignored it all. She looked up at Charmaine just in time to see the blonde's fist fly into her jaw; Coline's head whipped back, and she spat blood out of her mouth with a snarl. When she looked back at Charmaine the blonde had a smug, self-satisfied smirk on her lips, and Coline saw red.

She lunged at Charmaine, knocking the bitch back to the ground with a grunt. She grabbed a hold of her mother's amulet, still around the blonde's neck, and pulled it, twisting it tight against Charmaine's narrow throat. The bitch's eyes went wide in shock and she struggled below her, clawing at Coline, trying to kick her off, but Coline only tightened the chain further. She couldn't help the haughty smile that bloomed across her lips at seeing Charmaine's usually perfect face all bloodied from the fall, and getting increasingly redder as Coline cut off her air supply.

The Commander's voice rang out, loud and clear, ordering her to stop, but Coline ignored her, transfixed by the choking little gasps leaving Charmaine's lips, at the way her perfectly manicured nails desperately dug into Coline's hands.

Suddenly strong arms were wrapped around her waist, trying to pull her away; Coline resisted, and just when she thought she would be pulled free, she let go of Charmaine's throat and twisted her head instead, snapping the bitch's neck. She finally allowed Nathaniel to pull her away from Charmaine's now lifeless body and into his arms before she broke down, sobbing into his chest.

Arietta stood on the patio with her hands fisted in her hair in complete shock. Like many of the remaining spectators – the ones that hadn't fled in total panic – she was speechless. She couldn't believe her eyes. One of her Wardens had just crashed out of the first storey window of her childhood home, into to a dining table – which thankfully hadn't been occupied at the time – and murdered an Orlesian noble in cold blood in front of dozens of guests. She was pretty sure her brain had just short circuited. This… this had not been part of the plan; how was she supposed to deal with  _this_?

"Well," Neri said, breaking the silence, "it was nice of Coline to drop back in, and just as you were getting worried, too," she said with a glib smirk that made several of the guest tsk.

Arietta turned her head slowly to glare caustically at her. "Not the time for it, Neri," he muttered harshly, before marching over to her brothers' side.

Fergus smiled at her, seemingly highly amused by the entire situation, much to Arietta's exasperation. "I know, I know, I shouldn't laugh – but did you see the way the Orlesians scattered?" Crinkles formed around his eyes as he chuckled. Arietta gave him a withering look and sighed. He cleared his throat, looking contrite. "So, I'm guessing all did not, in fact, go according to plan?" he asked, still smiling but a little more apologetically this time.

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Crashing through the window was not part of the plan, no."

"Well, I leave it in your capable hands, sister," he said as he squeezed her shoulder.

"I'll fix this, Fergus," she promised. "And I am so sorry this happened. Please pass on my apologies to Lacie too," she implored.

"Don't fret, Etta," he said fondly, "We agreed to this; we knew the risks. Besides, I'm sure your Warden had god reason to snap that woman's neck."

"I'm sure she did," she ground out resentfully, "but there are times and places for such things."

"It's not all bad," he assured her, "at least now our wedding will be the talk of the empire for years to come," he mused, making her groan. He touched her arm, giving her a smile. "Have fun clearing this mess up," he said before wandering off, trying and failing to look serious about the whole ordeal.

Arietta sighed as she took in the carnage before her; the damages to the window and table were small compared to the lasting damage this would have done to their reputation. She would deal with it later, she told herself, right now she had a Warden to speak with.

She headed over toward Coline who was now on her feet, leaning heavily against Nathaniel while Anders healed her injuries. Her black hair was a mess from the scuffle, her eyes red and puffy from crying, her face stained with eye liner and marred with cuts and bruises. The rogue was still shaking as she stared numbly at the ground. Arietta straightened her back as she reached the rogue's side, needing to look professional in front of so many curious onlookers.

Coline recognised her heels and looked up at her; she quickly wiped at her cheeks, trying to rub away some of the liner smeared down them. "Commander, I-"

"Are you okay?" Arietta asked softly, even as she cut her off. Coline's brows arched in surprise and her mouth opened once, twice before closing; she frowned.

"I… don't have an answer for that, Commander," se rasped.

Arietta was used to Coline's tough, I don't need anyone attitude. She was a fighter. But the woman before her had lost all of her fight; for her to be uncertain, to not tell her that even if she wasn't okay right now that she would be later was… disconcerting. And given that Charmaine was currently lying dead on a broken table on Arietta's patio, it could only mean one thing had occurred.

"She betrayed you, didn't she?"

Coline nodded feebly. "He- he was innocent," she said, her voice cracking as she fought back more tears.  _Was_. Arietta's mouth went dry and she let out a shaky breath.

"I'm so sorry, Coline," she said sincerely. She glanced up at Nathaniel, "Could you escort her back to the Keep for me? The rest of us will deal with things here."

He nodded stiffly. "Will that be in chains or…?" he bit out, clearly disapproving of the idea.

Arietta winced and with a side long look at the people still in the garden, she sighed. "For now, yes. There's no need to lock her up once back at the Keep though," she added quietly. He swallowed thickly, his lips pursed, but he nodded and pulled Coline toward the stables.

Neri was back at her side, her big brown eyes watching Coline with something akin to pity.

Arietta glanced at her expectantly, one brow arched and Neri rolled her eyes in realisation. "I  _knew_  that meant  _I'd_  be the one to deal with things," she grumbled.

"Do I really need to point out the fact that you're the one who suggested this in the first place?" Arietta said tightly. "You also happen to be the only one here who can move two bodies without getting blood on their clothes."

Neri groaned, "I regret ever showing you I can lift people up," she groused.

"Even I find that hard to believe," Anders commented, smirking, "you love that trick."

"I don't know why you're smirking Anders; you'll be helping her," Arietta said crisply.

He whined. "But this wasn't my-"

"I don't care. Get on with it," she snapped a little too angrily. "Alistair and I will need to do damage control," she said with a slight sigh. "I'll see you both back at the Keep."

Neri pouted, "I don't seriously have to drag these bodies all the way to the  _Keep_ , do I?"

"No," Arietta scowled, "of course not; that would be unseemly. Wrap them up and take them to the chapel. The Chantry sisters will take care of the rest. If you could also check them for personal possessions… anything Coline might like to keep, perhaps?"

"Yeah, yeah," Neri said, rolling her eyes, "I know how to loot a corpse by now."

"Neri," Arietta hissed.

" _What_?"

"Show a little tact."

Anders chuckled, "Never going to happen, Commander."

Arietta shook her head, "Well, what are you both waiting for?"

Both mages sighed heavily but did as they were bid. Arietta sucked in a deep breath, composing herself once more, knowing that there was going to be a very long day of dealing with hysterical Orlesians ahead of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I hope that wasn't shit. Do relieve my worries with a comment or two? ^^
> 
> And here is the opening dialogue/snippet of the Warden Orgy, as promised: 
> 
> Neri rested her elbow on the table and leaned a little closer to her fellow Warden. "So, you know you said you wanted to fuck Anders?" she said with a mischievous smirk.
> 
> "I was not myself when I said that," Max protested.
> 
> "No, you were drunk on a truth draught, which means you totally want to fuck Anders."
> 
> Max looked down into his drink, blushing. "Well, maybe a little." Neri's brow quirked sceptically at the other mage. "Oh fine," he relented, "I want to fuck him into the mattress until he screams, happy?"
> 
> "Very," Neri grinned, "because here's the thing: Anders wants that too." Max's blue eyes got impossibly huge as his gaze snapped up to hers. "So if you're _up_ for that, then we only need to convince Raf to fuck my brains out."


	58. Fallout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for more suicidal thought stuff. Not too much tho, hopefully. 
> 
> Also, sorry for the late posting! I got distracted by a new horror game and then by DLC HYPE for Inquisition.

It was pathetic really, how few personal belongings she actually had. Coline hadn't realised it until she had been told to pack up and leave. She never allowed anyone close, and she never allowed anyone to see the real her, which meant she kept very few personal items with her; those that she did have were hidden away from prying eyes.

Coline shoved her shirts into her pack, not caring enough to fold them; where she was going it wouldn't matter if her clothes had creases or not. She didn't blame the Commander, not really; Coline deserved punishment after all, she deserved much more than that. She was being sent to the Deep Roads with Oghren and Sigrun to do some job for King Bhelen; no doubt it would involve killing endless droves of darkspawn while trying to clear out some lost thaig. Dwarves were nothing if not predictable.

She rummaged through her drawer, clearing out the junk so that she could reach the secret compartment at the back. It clicked open and she pulled out the hidden box. Inside was Tamsin's Joining amulet. It had been a long time since she had thought about that Warden; she had locked away thoughts of her just as much as she had hidden away physical reminders of her. What she wouldn't give to have her with her now. She would be a better distraction from the numbness of her body than packing. She slipped the amulet around her neck, letting it fall against the ornate golden one already sitting against her chest.

She hadn't wanted to wear her mother's amulet at first; it felt so wrong to wear it when she had killed the man who had given it to her in the first place. Mother had loved that golden pendant almost as much as she had loved him. It was all Coline had left of her mother, however, and on the long nights that had passed since the wedding, Coline had needed that small comfort in order to get her through to morning. More than once, she had considered ending her life. It had actually been a blessing when the Commander told her that she would be going to the Deep Roads with the dwarves. A Warden's death fighting darkspawn was better than suicide - at least she might be remembered for her sacrifice instead of her patricide.

Coline grabbed a hold of her father's letters next. She had read them so many times since she had murdered him. He had written to her so much. In some he spoke of his days, of his troubles; in others he rambled on about memories of mother and Coline as a child. He told her everything: of how happy he had been when mother got pregnant, to how scared he was when she was in labour, to the indescribable love he felt holding her for the first time. He had begged her to write, to visit, to forgive him. He had wanted to give it all up, to come see her, but when she didn't respond he had respected her decision. He had still sent updates after that, but less often. He was miserable without her. He self-harmed, he drank, he barely ate. His new wife had helped, for a time, but she was sickly. Her son had died in a hunting accident and she was beside herself. He felt cursed - like the Maker himself was punishing him, refusing him happiness for throwing Coline out onto the streets.

She had killed him and never even heard him out. He must have been so scared, so frustrated, completely helpless as he was thanks to the poison, and she had laughed at him. She hadn't been able to speak at his pyre. How could she when she was the one that murdered him? She could feel the tears prick at her eyes again and she took a shaky breath as she clutched the letters tightly. She wouldn't be able to bring all of them with her; that would require a bag all on its own. But she stuffed a few of her favourites in, wanting happy letters rather than the more morbid ones.

There was a knock at the door and Nathaniel stepped in. He had been an almost constant presence at her side since the pyre. She had wanted to be alone, she deserved it, but he had insisted on staying with her. He didn't talk much, he was simply  _there_. There was still a flutter in her chest whenever she saw him, so she knew she wasn't entirely numb and that was… comforting. But that flutter was more of an ache now; she didn't deserve him, she couldn't have him. He was just a sore reminder of a normal life that she had been deprived of, of the life that would soon end, alone and empty in the dark.

"Everything's ready," he said. She nodded and grabbed her pack, shrugging it over one shoulder as she headed to the door. He touched her arm as she passed him; just a gentle graze against her forearm, but it was enough to stop her in her tracks as the warmth of his touch spread briefly through her cold body. "I wanted to… say goodbye, and wish you a safe journey."

"I am more than capable of looking after myself. I've been doing it for years," she said with more bitterness and bite than she had intended.

He let out a small sigh. "I know that, but with everything… just, know that you are not alone and I look forward to your return." His eyes bored into her intensely, conveying some deeper message; he suspected that she wouldn't be coming back, and he'd be right. She looked away, clenching her jaw.

"Goodbye, Nathaniel."

She took a step toward the door. He grabbed her arm more forcefully, pulling her back to him, and suddenly his lips were on hers, hot and firm. Her body tensed against his even as her lips slid over his, kissing him back. This is what she could have had, in another life. As it was, it felt more like a mockery, like this was being given a slice of happiness only for it to turn to ashes in her mouth. She pulled back when the tears started to fall down her face. She had no control over her emotions anymore and she batted angrily at them. He lifted his hands and took hold of each of her wrists, stilling her movements.

"I have wanted to do that for a while," he said with the faintest of smiles at his lips. She stared at them, wanting nothing more than to feel them against hers again. But there was no point. He was trying to give her hope, a reason to keep fighting, but she doubted it was enough.

She swallowed. "As have I," she replied, "But it doesn't matter now. I have to leave." She pulled away from his grip but he held her tighter. She could feel herself getting agitated at the lack of control and he seemed to sense that, his grip immediately loosening.

"Just... promise me you won't throw your life away down there."

She glanced down at the ground, unable to hold his gaze. Was it that obvious how suicidal she was? Or had he just been paying more attention than most? The latter made that aching flutter return in her chest. "There are people here who care about you," he said more firmly as his thumbs caressed her wrists. It made her shiver and she looked back up at him.

"Are there?"

"Yes." He smiled and let go of her arms entirely. "May I kiss you again?" She blinked, surprised he had asked at all. Maybe he did see more than most. Her head twitched with a slight nod, a blush on her cheeks and then his lips were back on hers, kissing more heatedly. This time she melted into it and lifted her hands to rest on his shoulders as their kiss deepened.

She wasn't sure it would be enough once she was alone in the depressing dark of the Deep Roads to stop her from ending it all. But at least now she might have something to come back to where she had nothing mere moments ago.

…

Neri shivered and rubbed her hands together. It was bloody freezing, a proper Fereldan morning. She had even put her 'ear mittens' on to keep the tips of her ears warm where they poked out from her hair. For once, she could blame Barkspawn for her being up and ready before everyone else and not some bullshit nightmare. Apparently he had been annoyed at the lazy mornings Neri and Anders had shared recently, mornings in which they had blatantly ignored him. So this morning he had decided to sit on Neri's face in order to wake her up. When she had cried out and tried to shove him off, he had farted; she had basically swallowed it, and had thus spent the next half hour retching while Anders laughed his ass off next to her. " _That's why I prefer cats,"_  he had said. Naturally, Pounce had taken that moment to jump on Anders' moving foot, claws out. Neri had been the one to laugh her ass off after that, and they had both given up on sleep entirely.

Sigrun's delighted squeal was the first sign of anyone else entering the yard, and she turned to the dwarf, grinning.

"You're wearing them!" the dwarf cried out happily.

"Of course! Shame you didn't get me some breast mittens too, though; I'm freezing my tits off here."

Sigrun grinned up at her. "I'll keep a look out for you," she said with a laugh.

Oghren came out next, lugging two massive bags with him; Neri gave him a curious look and he just grunted as he walked over to her and Sigrun.

Neri could hear the bottles clinking and she chuckled. "Oghren, when Arietta said to pack for a long trip, I don't think she meant raid the Keep's stash of alcohol and take all of it with you."

The dwarf snorted, "Heh, too bad, ain't no way I'm going back to the Roads without the stuff."

Sigrun rolled her eyes. "You better be alert enough to keep an eye on things down there."

"Don't you worry, little lady, Oghren can fight the 'spawn eyes closed, a bottle in one hand, axe in the other while belching out the alphabet," he said with a grin.

"That's not what I meant," Sigrun said, "Everyone's worried about Coline."

"Oh aye, that. Heh, I'll happily watch her back."

"Really though," Neri said, "She's not herself and the Deep Roads are… difficult to handle mentally and physically at the best of times."

"Got it, Warden," Oghren grunted. "We got this."

"She won't like you crowding her, controlling her," Neri said, "but you should try to make her feel welcome… needed."

"Don't worry, Neri," Sigrun said, "Rafael already gave me the same spiel."

"Good. He knows her best."

"You feel bad, don't you, for helping set up the assassination?"

"I… sort of; I'm the one who got Fergus and Lacie involved and persuaded Ari to let them all do it, but nobody could have predicted just how… poorly things would go." She sighed. "I just hope Coline will be okay. Anders and I both know what it's like to want it all to just simply end. I think Nate was going to talk to her though, so here's hoping he helped."

Others slowly filtered out into the yard. Oghren, Sigrun and Coline weren't the only ones leaving the Keep: Olivia and Lenny were heading out on their recruitment tour as well. Varel and Arietta were speaking with Lenny and Olivia, going over routes and places they could stay, yet again. Raf and Max had joined Neri and the dwarves and were huddled together, keeping each other warm. Anders was at Neri's side, too, having finally finished up grooming Pounce. He really did spend too much time doting on that cat to be considered healthy. Barkspawn and that little fur ball of a cat were out in the cold with them too. Justice was standing off to the side, watching events unfold with a slight frown. She knew he wanted to leave his current body so that Aura could get some closure for Kristoff, but nobody knew what would happen to Justice if he simply left the body. For now, she was pretty sure he was going to stick around to help make sure that the darkspawn had truly retreated from the surface. The only people not out in the yard yet were Coline and Nathaniel. So when they finally exited the Keep –  _holding hands -_ Neri grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"Cough up, dwarf," she said to a groaning Oghren. He tossed her a sovereign and she pocketed it before Coline or Nate could see. She  _knew_  they would hook up before Coline left for the Deep Roads; the amount of times she had seen them speaking quietly together before the assassination had been ridiculous, and Nate had barely left her side after it. Poor Oghren had doubted Daddy issues would have the stones to say anything to her until he'd missed her for months. It felt good to beat him at a bet; she didn't often win them. And she really was relieved that Coline would have something to look forward to coming back to now. She doubted Neri's promises of sex were enough to entice her into sticking around.

"You realise you're never going to get the juicy gossip on those two, right?" Max asked. "I've tried and tried to find out Nathaniel's deepest darkest secrets; he keeps those fine lips of his clamped shut."

Rafael scoffed next to him, shaking his head. "You managed to pry mine open; maybe you're not trying hard enough."

"I think it helped that you like cock, mon amour," Max said with a smirk, making Rafael chortle.

"You're better off trying his sister for gossip instead," Anders said. "She likes cats; we had a lovely conversation the other week when she visited, told me all about our little Natey as a child."

"What!?" Max exclaimed. "What did she say?"

"Lots." Anders smirked. "I swore on Ser Pounce-a-lot's life that I wouldn't tell anyone though."

Neri snickered, "We played charades instead," she explained, grinning mischievously. "She told Anders a story: apparently Nathaniel used to spend a lot of time in the trophy room as a child, staring up at all of the family heirlooms. Delilah once caught him trying to swing one of the swords mounted on the wall. He fell flat on his face and she laughed, hard; she swears it's why he took up archery instead," Neri laughed. Max snorted and grinned at them both.

"You got all of that from a game of charades?" Rafael said sceptically.

"Duh," Neri and Anders replied in unison.

Rafael sighed, "Why did I even doubt such a thing?"

"So… any chance I could borrow Pounce sometime soon?" Max asked with a bright smile.

"Alright!" Arietta called out. "As you all know, Sigrun, Oghren, Coline, Lenny and Olivia are all heading out today. Expect them to be gone for several months, at least. So say your goodbyes now and then I want everyone back to work – with less Wardens we're going to need to all pick up the slack," she said with a very significant look at Neri, to which the elf rolled her eyes in reply.

Neri hated goodbyes, especially when it was so many at once. It was going to be so quiet at the Keep without Oghren belching and grunting all of the time, although, come to think of it, the peace and quiet might be nice. She had slapped him on the shoulder and wished him well before hugging Sigrun and wishing her luck with the inevitable smell. The dwarf had showed her a small nose plug she had made especially for use around Oghren, and Neri had chuckled. Lenny and Olivia said bye briefly, although they promised they'd be in contact a lot more with the Keep than the others would be so it probably wouldn't even feel like they had really left. Neri had still hugged them both goodbye and told them to bring back some pretty female recruits seeing as the Keep was rather overrun with men at this point. Olivia had joked that allowing entry into the Wardens based on prettiness was a  _wonderful_  idea, her words laced heavily with sarcasm. Neri had grinned and said that yeah, if that were the case Olivia never would have been allowed in. She'd received a smack on the arm for that jest. It still hurt.

Coline had hugged Rafael goodbye and they had shared a few private words before he had let her go, still looking worried and unconvinced. It was honestly disgusting that Coline was being sent to the Deep Roads at all, but Ari was trying to show the nobles that her Wardens could not in fact get away with anything they liked, that they would be punished severely. Keeping Coline out of the way, away from said angry nobles, was supposed to keep her safe but given her mental state, everyone doubted that would be the case. Arietta had struggled over the decision for days, but in the end, the backlash from the assassination had already been severe; she couldn't risk inciting a rebellion over it all, as harsh as that seemed to Coline. Neri had still promised the archer sex if she ever wanted it and had even teased her that being gagged sounded like fun. Coline had smiled  _ever so slightly_  at that and Neri had grinned brightly.

Neri was back inside now, the others having left a few hours ago. She and Anders were sitting on the sofa in her quarters, both of them with books in hand and legs outstretched alongside one another as they each leaned against an armrest. Barkspawn was on the ground, curled up in front of the fire and Pounce had settled down on top of him, using him as a bed. It was downright cosy and Neri couldn't help but smile. If the rest of her days were anything like this, she would die happy. Of course she would be happier if she had a certain elven lover of hers snuggled up against her too, but right now, with the fire crackling away and Anders sitting opposite her, lost in his book, his hair down and loose around his face, she was happy and could just about forget about all of the other crazy shit going on in their lives outside of this perfect little moment.

She should have known it wouldn't last long.

There was a knock at the door and she called out for whoever it was to enter. A messenger came in, holding a single letter out for Neri. She scrambled off of the sofa, nearly treading on Barkspawn and Pounce as she did so, and grabbed the letter from the messenger. She recognised the handwriting immediately and tore the envelope open.

Neri stared down at the words as they refused to sink in. She must have read it four times in a row but she still couldn't believe what she was reading.  _It will be some time before I can return to you, cara mia._  He wasn't coming, Zev  _wasn't_  coming. He'd changed his mind. Something had come up, something apparently not worth explaining via letter. And that was that. There was no new address so that she might reply to him, there were no promises of when he finally might return to her.  _Nothing_.

Anders was on his feet. He took the letter from her, scanning it quickly, not that there was much there to read to begin with. He frowned and tucked his hair behind his ear as he glanced at her. "Why the fuck would he change his mind?"

"I don't know." She sat down hard on the sofa and Barkspawn came to rest his head on her lap, whining, almost like he understood what was going on. She stroked him as she watched the flames flickering in the fire absentmindedly. The sofa shifted as Anders sat next to her and pulled her into his side.

There was nothing keeping her here now, she realised. She could simply leave. All this time, though, she had been planning things in her head with all three of them in mind; it felt wrong that it would just be Anders and her going now. She  _missed_  Zev; there was this constant dull ache in her chest whenever she thought about him too much. She wanted him back so she could finally, properly, talk to him – they were wasting so much fucking time,  _precious_  time.

What could possibly have come up that would make him delay returning to her? She ran through all the options: another lover – no, he would have the guts to tell her that, plus she liked to share; the more the merrier. Her head began to ache and she frowned. If he was in trouble it was possible he would stay away from her to keep her safe… but he would surely visit her first. That headache got worse and she winced, realising what that meant.

"Heal my headache," she suddenly demanded as she looked up at Anders. He blinked in surprise for a moment and then lifted his hands to her head. The soft glow of his magic enveloped them both and then Anders was the one frowning. "Shit," she muttered in realisation, as she shoved to her feet, pushing roughly past poor Barkspawn. She looked back at Anders as she fisted her hair. "Blood magic again?"

He visibly swallowed, nodding slightly. "What… what does that mean?"

"I was running over reasons why he wouldn't come back. Then my head started to ache – I'm missing something, Anders, and I think it means Zev was here." She swallowed thickly. "What the fuck happened that night?" she asked shakily.

He was on his feet again, coming to stand in front of her, wrapping his arms around her. "I don't know. But we will find out."

She screamed against his chest, letting out her frustration. She hated that some  _bitch_  had fucked with her mind and possibly the minds of others she cared about. If that blood mage had done something to Zev… Neri's fists clenched around Anders' shirt and she felt tears spring to her eyes.

"Shit," she muttered.

"If he was here… someone must have seen him," Anders said softly. "We can ask around." He pulled back and lifted her chin up with a finger. "We will get answers," he promised her.

She nodded numbly, sighing heavily. She examined the letter again, hoping to find some hidden message now that she knew something was probably wrong. But as far as she could tell, it was an ordinary letter. She shook her head, getting frustrated again before she reminded herself that Zev was resourceful, he was smart. If something was truly wrong, he would find a way to get word to her, and until then, she would just have to assume that he had things under control. If she didn't it would drive her mad.

…

Arietta rubbed at her temples. It had been less than a week since the wedding and subsequent shit-storm. Alistair had returned to Denerim to deal with nobles requesting to see the king to discuss how inappropriate and scarring the events of the wedding had been. It was mostly Orlesians puffing out their feathers, a display and little more. Some wanted compensation, of course, others simply wanted to make their outrage known. And all of it was tiresome. The most worrying thing had been the outcry for Coline to be punished with the hangman's noose. For her safety, Arietta had very reluctantly agreed to send her to the Deep Roads; no nobles would go after her themselves there, although the idea of the Deep Roads being safe was laughable. It was not something Arietta wanted to do – Coline had just been through a horrifying ordeal and it was plain to see the guilt resting on her shoulders, crushing her. Arietta feared that Coline was on the verge of giving up, of letting that guilt destroy her, and the Deep Roads were the last place anyone feeling like that should go. But she had to be seen to be punishing her some way rather than just hiding her out of sight. She had already spoken with Sigrun and Oghren and even the dwarves of Orzammar about it; they would all be keeping a careful eye on her and hopefully keeping her sufficiently distracted and busy.

Arietta hated feeling helpless though, unable to do more than that – she was the Queen for fuck's sakes and yet she could not risk her Keep, her Wardens, or the throne being openly attacked by a rebellion of some kind, all for keeping one of her Wardens safe, and she hated that. She hated that her ideals were constantly being compromised by outside forces out of her control. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right. Coline needed help right now, not punishment; that would only solidify in her mind that she  _was_  a murderer, a bad person worthy of death. Arietta took a deep breath. There was nothing she could do now. They had left. She just hoped that Nathaniel would be enough of a reason for Coline to keep on fighting.

"Commander, a letter came for you," Varel said as he stepped into her office. There was a strange edge to his voice and Arietta arched a brow at him, holding out her hand for the letter. "It's from the First Warden," he explained, a look of worry on his face.

Arietta frowned as she glanced down at the handwriting on the letter's envelope. She'd received a letter from the First Warden many months ago, back around the time of her wedding to Alistair. It had been the reason she had decided to become Commander; it seemed the First Warden wasn't convinced Neri would be capable of leading an entire Arling, so Arietta had relented and taken up the role herself. But this letter, this handwriting, was not the same as that had been. It was possible the First's second in command had handled this letter, she supposed, but her gut still tightened with worry. She opened the letter, breaking the grey griffon seal, before she pulled out the letter within.

_Commander of the Grey of Ferelden,_

_You are hereby called to Weisshaupt to answer for your actions during the Blight and after. Expected in attendance with you are: Neria Surana, Slayer of the Archdemon, Rafael Larue, and Maxime Dupond. This is not a request; we shall see you all at your earliest convenience._

_The First Warden,_

_Torsten Kappel._

She sat back in her chair, exhaling heavily. "Shit," she muttered under her breath.

"Not good news, I take it?"

"No," she said, scowling at the page. "I need to speak with Raf, Max and Neri; could you possible go-"

"At once, Commander," Varel said.

"And tell Rafael to bring the letters he received from the 'First Warden' too, please."

He frowned slightly before he turned and headed out the door, leaving Arietta to stew in her worry while she waited for the others.

Neri was the first to enter Arietta's office, scowling, with her arms folded across her chest. She slumped against the wall, waiting.

"You alright?" Arietta asked, watching her friend carefully.

"No," Neri said honestly. Arietta expected her to leave it at that, but Neri looked up at her, brown eyes tearful. "Zev's not coming."

" _What_? Why?"

"I don't know," Neri bit out. "I don't want to talk about it."

Arietta nodded, rubbing her face as she leant her elbows on her desk. Neri had been so looking forward to Zev's return. Arietta knew how hard it was to be away from a loved one; she couldn't imagine only having spoken to Alistair via letter for these past few months, and then just as she was expecting to see him again for him to tell her he wasn't going to come, and without a proper explanation too? She shook her head, wanting nothing more than to hug her friend, but Rafael and Max took that moment to enter, carrying the two letters she had asked to see.

"May I?" Arietta asked as she pointed to the letters; Rafael nodded and handed them over with a curious look on his angular features.

"What's this about?" Max asked.

Arietta stared down at the letters and her blood turned cold. She closed her eyes, exhaling hard. "Months ago, I received a letter from the First Warden. He heavily implied that I should become Commander instead of Neri… I took up the position because of his words. But that letter, it was in the same hand as these, of this false Warden's," she explained as she compared the letters to the one she had received months ago.

"Shit," Rafael muttered.

"That explains why you suddenly went from pushing me to command to volunteering to do it yourself," Neri commented wryly. "You could have just said as much…"

"You'd have been annoyed. He didn't think an elf would be a capable ruler of the Order or an entire arling."

"Hmph. I mean… he's right," Neri admitted. "I would be shit, but it ain't because of my ears."

"I know, Neri," Arietta said softly.

"I'm guessing you thought it was the First Warden for similar reasons as me – he was convincing with his knowledge and tone," Rafael said, rubbing the stubble on his jaw in worry.

"I did. Back then I didn't realise it was unusual for the First Warden to send out letters personally. Had I known that, I might have questioned it further."

"What made you suddenly question it now then?" Max asked.

"Because, today I received a letter from the First Warden - one very different to the one I received previously." Arietta handed it to the boys and they read it, their frowns deepening before giving it to Neri to read.

"Great," Neri muttered, her voice laced with sarcasm as she looked up from the letter. "We all have to go to the fucking  _Anderfels_?" she groused.

"Seems that way," Max sighed. "Have I mentioned how much I hate sand? It always gets in between my toes. Oh, and don't even get me started on the sun!"

"There's no mention of Anders," Neri pointed out. "Can't I bring him?"

"I wouldn't, if I were you; best not to anger the First Warden by bringing an extra person with us," Rafael said.

"I also need a mage left at the Keep, Neri," Arietta said with a remorseful look.

"But how come Max is invited?" Neri asked. "No offense, Max," she added looking at him with a small smile.

"None taken," Max replied cheerfully.

"We sent reports to Weisshaupt - they know Max was kidnapped," Arietta explained.

Neri rubbed her face, clenching her jaw. "Well, how long is this trip going to take, then?" she asked.

Arietta looked to Neri sympathetically, knowing that the elf wouldn't like her answer. "At least two months, by my calculations," she replied.

"This is absolute bollocks," Neri hissed out as she paced the room.

"When do you want us to leave, Commander?" Rafael asked, his grey eyes watching Neri warily.

"It should be soon… By week's end, at the latest."

" _Wonderful_ ," Neri muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is probably the last time you will see Lenny/Olivia/Coline/Oghren/Sigrun in Part 1 of Sacrifices, unless I make changes to my plans, it wasn't a massive send off, I know, but hopefully it was enough because we will see them again, promise. The story will now be split between Neri/Arietta/Raf and Max heading north to Weisshaupt, Zev stuff and, a bit later, Anders stuff. By my current count, there are 11 chapters left to go.
> 
> As always, couldn't do this without my beta, ElyssaCousland. You are brilliant my darling. Or all of you, reading and commenting. <3
> 
> Please do continue to comment/review tho - these chapters are my own content, thus I tend to worry and fuss over them a lot more, so letting me know your thoughts is hugely helpful. Am I boring the socks off of you? Is there anything you want to see in these final chapters? Things I've either not tied up yet or things you just plain want to see? This story is massive so it's possible I've forgotten about something. Let me know, please! Also, do you want me to go back to weekly updates? Or is two weekly good? I've no clue. Finally, I am so hyped for the new DLC for Inquisition that I might forget to update the week that comes out so I might update this Friday... then wait a bit again. We'll see.
> 
> Update on the side story: the foursome is fully written, currently being edited by the incredible Shadowfire_RavenPheonix and sitting somewhere around 17k. All smut. So it won't be for the faint of heart. I hope to post it in the next couple of weeks but again, we'll see. 
> 
> Hope you are all well,
> 
> ~ Chant.


	59. Onwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So a quick update just to keep you all happy for a couple of weeks while I binge the fuck out of the new DLC. Hope you like it. Massive thanks as per usual to Lys, my incredible beta and a biiiig thanks to all those who commented on the last update <3

_It's just two months_ , Neri reminded herself. Not that it was any help at all – two months was a really fucking long time to be away from Anders and sex, especially as she'd gotten used to him being a constant part of her life recently. It was such a fucking joke that she had gone from looking forward to having both of her lovers in her life, to now having none at all. She hated feeling lonely and cold and horny. It didn't help that Raf and Max had one another, but she hadn't been allowed to bring Anders because they needed a bloody mage at the Keep. He had been just as upset, not knowing what he would do without her around to spend time with; naturally Arietta had suggested he could do some actual work, but they had both rolled their eyes at that. At least Neri could take some comfort in the fact that Arietta was also without her other half on this trip; they could complain together, and Neri had a feeling she'd be doing  _a lot_  of that on this little journey of theirs.

It was pissing it down with one of those summer thunderstorms that seemed to rock the coast quite often. Neri was already soaked to her bones with cold rain, her hair drenched and stuck to her face, her hood hanging limp and useless over her eyes so she could barely see where she was going. Everyone else in her group could trust their steeds to follow the path well enough so that they didn't fall off the damned cliffs, but could Neri do that? Of course not, because she was riding Terrence, Thedas' most useless and disobedient horse.

Throughout the Blight she had been given this little gelding to ride around on and every single  _fucking_  time he would wander off of the path, stop to eat grass or start to play fetch with Barkspawn, completely ignoring anything she had to say. It was maddening. And now all three of them had been reunited. Arietta had proudly shown off the three horses she had borrowed from an Amaranthine noble; all of them were beautiful creatures, majestic even, but when Neri had asked where the fourth horse was, Arietta had just smirked and then lead her around to the gardens where Terrence had, of course, wandered off to. They found him eating some tulips, mid-shit, and Neri had just groaned while Arietta laughed her ass off.

Neri once again kicked Terrence's side in a desperate attempt to stop him walking off of the rocky cliff edge. He lifted his head, grunting slightly before he slowly meandered over to the other side of the path, nearly walking straight into Barkspawn who was happily walking alongside her and her horse, loving the rain. She shoved her hair out of her eyes once more and glanced out to sea, watching the choppy waves churning far below. Everything was so grey; it was impossible to tell where the sea ended and the sky began. And the wind was raging around them, annoyingly fickle, unable to stick to just one direction. As a result, conversation between Neri and her companions had long since stopped, their words being carried off on the wind too fast for the others to catch, so they all simply rode on in silence. Or at least the others did; Neri was continually swearing at her horse for being a drunken idiot or at Barkspawn for disappearing out of sight only to come back carrying soggy boots and other useless shit. She was growing more and more frustrated and uncomfortable with each stupid step they took. At this rate it would take them two months just to reach  _Jader_.

Terrence took that moment to come to an abrupt halt, nearly knocking Neri out of her saddle in the process. "Andraste's tits, Terrence! Does it look like the others are stopping? No? That's because they aren't. Now fucking move!" She tried to spur him into action but he refused to budge, instead deciding that the grass at the side of the path was much more interesting. "You fat lump, you did that literally five paces back!" she shouted at him, rocking back and forth in the saddle to try to get him to walk.

Arietta must have heard Neri's yells because she turned her grey palfrey, Raindrop, around and smiled at her. "Seems like he thinks it's time to make camp," she mused.

Neri glared at her. "He's a horse, Arietta; he doesn't get to make those kinds of decisions." She leaned closer to Terrence's head, pulling back his ears slightly. "You are the worst horse in existence," she hissed into his ear. Terrence shook his stupid brown head, flicking his drenched mane in her face in the process. "Gah!" she cried out as she wiped down her face. "Fuck you, Terrance,  _fuck you_."

"We'll make camp," Arietta announced, giggling slightly. Barkspawn barked happily and took that moment to shake the rain from his fur, soaking Neri with muddy water. She groaned, already hating this stupid journey of theirs.

She climbed down from the saddle with a frustrated sigh; just as she was about to grab Terrence's reins he bolted away from her, kicking up a load of dirt and water as he did so. She let out a disgusted cry, arms outstretched as she stared down at her even dirtier and wetter body. Arietta was laughing full force now, and Max and Rafael had joined her.

"Best go after him," Arietta said, trying to keep a grin from her face.

Neri groaned and glanced down at her hound. "Barkspawn, do something useful and fetch my horse, will you?"

He tilted his head and whined at her and she rolled her eyes and then trudged after Terrence herself.

"I had my doubts about this trip, but you know what?" Max said, grinning broadly. "I think it's gonna be a lot of fun."

Rafael snorted. "You've just doomed us all to a miserable journey. Well done, Max."

…

"There's a wonderful cake shop down that cobblestone alley there – they serve the  _best_  cupcakes," Max babbled. "I spoke with the owner of the store while we were stuck here during the Blight – incredible guy – his mother died and the one thing he could always remember her baking as a child was these little cupcakes, but she never told anyone the recipe. When she passed, he swore he would try to recreate her cupcakes, only he didn't know the first thing about baking! So he travelled around all of Thedas, visiting stores, trying their cupcakes, asking about recipes and techniques, until finally he was ready to try himself. He spent  _eight_  years perfecting his recipe until it finally tasted just as his mother's did. Now he sells them. And I swear each mouthful tastes like love." Max sighed wistfully. "We should go there."

"Max, we're not staying in Jader longer than we need to," Arietta said, sounding a little exasperated - hardly surprising seeing as they'd barely made it two feet into the portside town before Max had already recounted Jader's entire history to them as well as explaining how he and the other Wardens had passed their time here while waiting for news about the Blight in Ferelden. Now the mage had moved onto telling stories about every building, person and statue in the idyllic city. Neri's poor ears felt like they were going to fall off.

"Commander, respectfully, going to buy a cupcake is hardly going to delay us for very long, now is it?" Max argued.

Arietta gave Max a pointed look. "Max,  _respectfully_ , this  _is_  you we are talking about – if I let you get into a conversation with  _anyone_  in Jader other than us, we're probably going to be stuck here an extra week."

Max laughed. "Touché."

"In Max's defence, Commander, the cupcakes  _are_  delicious," Rafael commented with a slight smirk.

Arietta rolled her eyes. "We find an inn first;  _then_  you can go get your damned cupcakes."

"They'll be closed by now," Max said, lips pouting.

"There's an inn near the docks; should be perfect for a night's stay," Raf informed her, as he urged Rhubarb, his mahogany cob, forwards down the hill. Max followed next on his sandy palfrey, Beach. Neri shared a small smile with Arietta before she dragged Terrance forward by his reins, having given up riding him all together since the thunderstorm the previous night.

The low evening sun had cast an orange glow upon the red bricked city, making everything look warm and welcoming from the top of the hill, but as they reached the bottom they were plunged into darkness, the sun cut off by high roofed buildings. Occasionally the sun would peek through a gap in a building somewhere behind them and huge shadows would stretch out before them, their silhouettes looking more like giants riding mammoths than men on horses.

They reached the dockside inn not long later, greeted by the sounds of crying gulls above and the lapping of waves against the town's docks below. Neri breathed in deeply, smiling as she inhaled the salty fresh air. Back in the Tower she had always wanted to see the sea; Anders had offered a few times to take her, asking her to escape with him. She had always refused; she wouldn't have been able to protect him from Albert if she left too. But once she was free and the Blight ended, she had gone down to the Docks with Zevran almost every day. Sometimes they just sat on the sea front and watched the boats coming and going; other times they walked along the shoreline, chatting, jumping over waves or skipping stones. She longed to dip her feet into the water now, to simply sit and watch the waves and the birds, but it wouldn't be the same, not without Zev at her side, smiling as he told her stories about beautiful Antiva City and how its bay sparkled like a thousand diamonds. She wondered what Zev was doing now, if he was staring out at the ocean too, thinking of her.

"Neri, you coming? Rafael secured us rooms," Arietta said from behind her. Neri turned, wiping a tear she hadn't realised had slipped from her eye, and smiled.

"Right behind you."

* * *

 

 _The Merana_  cut through the dark waves with ease, swaying gently in the still night. The sky above was painted black, not a star to be seen, and all around them it was thick with fog.  _Ah, the perfect weather for an assassination_ , not that Zevran had any such plans, of course.

He sat on the ship's forward bow, with the warm winds whipping at his hair. It felt good to be in warmer waters. It wasn't quite Antiva, but it was close. They would be stopping in Rivain soon, or so he hoped. He had been fortunate, in truth, to even find a ship leaving for Rivain so quickly upon reaching Denerim once more. Most ships travelling that far north would make several stops along the way, often making port in Antiva City, and given his recent notoriety there, he did not want to tempt fate. Lucky for him,  _The Merana_  was willing to sail straight to Rivain, with only one short stop at Ostwick. That may or may not have had something to do with Zevran knowing the owner of the ship, however.

Matthew Merton had been a guest in attendance at Alistair and Arietta's wedding; as proposed by Neri, this ship had been a gift to him for all of his aid after the Blight.  _The Merana_  had thus been christened as a clever mix of both Merton and Surana. A lovely name for a lovely ship, although it did make him feel rather depressed. Life had been much simpler before the royal wedding. There was sex and drinking and more sex. Ah, that was the life. Zevran had honestly been the happiest he ever had been. And now there was a very real possibility that he might never see her again.

He sighed, his hand instinctively rising to his ear to run his fingers over the smooth gold earring that he had desperately wanted to give her on so many occasions. It would have to wait, however, until they were both free from the witch's grasp. And naturally things were more complicated now with Anders in the mix. Usually he would welcome another lover, especially a man with such… renowned talents. But this was the man Neri had protected time and time again, her oldest friend and first love. Part of him doubted he could ever hold a candle to someone such as that. But then he reminded himself of Neri's reaction, of the way she had cum from his voice alone, of the wistful way in which she had stared up at him, eyes dark with lust and love, and the heated kiss they had shared… He did not know how such a relationship would work with all three of them, but until this matter with the blood mage had been dealt with he could only speculate, and he much preferred action.

It was why he had set sail for Rivain in the first place; if there was anywhere, anyone in all of Thedas who could undo such magic, it was the Rivaini Seers. They were revered as powerful mages, not restricted by the Chantry's tight collared control. More than that, he hoped whatever control the witch had over his mind would be considerably weakened this far away from Ferelden. He certainly felt like himself, no strange shivers or headaches, but he could not pretend to be some expert on mind control; the witch could, after all, simply be biding her time. At any rate, this was his best bet of getting some form of message to Neri. Even a simple word of warning would be better than nothing; he had to try, at least.

Naturally, this was all assuming that the witch's spells had even worked on Neri in the first place. Carina had mentioned needing to use both Zevran and Anders as leverage in order to get Neri to do as she pleased, and that made him wonder if perhaps Neri's own brand of blood magic gave her some innate resistance to such things. He shook his head, closing his eyes as he exhaled. It was no use pondering over it all; he would drive himself insane with thoughts and possibilities.

The ships horn blew once, loud and clear in the clam night and Zevran looked up in time to see the first twinkle of lights up ahead. He smiled. Finally they had arrived at the Rivaini capital of Dairsmuid.

"You were doing that thing where you stare off broodily into the distance again," a familiar voice said from behind him. Zevran turned to look at the young boy, still smiling.

"Oh? And do you have a problem with my staring off broodingly into the distance?"

"No," Beltrán replied, his hazel eyes drawn down in a slight frown. "I just don't know why you do it. Isn't it boring?"

"Very much so. Come, we will be docking soon and then we shall be onto much more exciting things, yes?"

The boy sighed. "You promised to train me; how does speaking to some silly mages help me become a better assassin?"

"Because my little apprentice, we must first track them down, perhaps even gain entry into somewhere we are not allowed, and then-"

"Murder them?"

"Ah. No. We very much need them alive, I am afraid. The killing will have to come later."

The boy rolled his eyes and Zevran slapped the back of his head. "Did the Crows not teach you to respect your elders?" He tsk-ed. "That will have to be your first lesson then."

Beltrán groaned, and Zevran could not help but chuckle, already feeling a little lighter, a little freer and much more hopeful about his chances to be reunited with his Warden.

* * *

 

Neri finally felt comfortable again and all it took was a bath, a change of clothes, three plates of food, two flagons of ale and a roaring fire to get her there. They hadn't even been on the road that long; Amaranthine to Jader wasn't exactly far but she wasn't used to riding and having the world's most stubborn horse hadn't helped either. She let out a small contented sigh as she lounged back in her seat, sipping from her flagon, using Barkspawn as a footrest while he snoozed near the fire.

Max smiled at her, his eyes gleaming. "If you thought the first part of our journey was uncomfortable, you're gonna hate the rest."

She glared at him. "I'd rather remain blissfully ignorant, you ass."

His smile stretched into a grin. "First there's the ferry trip in the morning. The seas around here aren't known for being particularly calm, so I hope you packed your sea legs."

"I've never been on a boat," she pointed out.

Max snorted. "Then you better hope you have sea legs on you. If not… I'll introduce you to the ship's side rail; I'm already very well acquainted with it, so you'll be best friends with it by the end of the journey."

Neri groaned. "Remind me again why we're taking this ferry at all?"

"So we half our journey time," Arietta explained with a smile. "It means you'll get back to Anders faster."

Neri exhaled. "So I'll be thinking of Anders while I puke my guts up. Nice."

"I'm sure he'll be very grateful," Rafael said dryly.

"It's fine, Neri. We can be sick buddies together," Max said with a laugh.

Rafael's nose crinkled. "I think I had actually repressed the memories from our last voyage…"

"Really?" Max asked. "Cause I hadn't. Like at all. I still remember vomit burning my nose as it poured out of my nostrils." He shuddered and then glanced at Neri. "Don't try to hold in the sick; it never ends well."

"Gross, and noted."

"Another word of advice, if there happens to be a storm, do not lean over the rail to throw up; chances are you'll end up falling overboard," Rafael warned as he arched a sardonic brow at Max.

"One time! It happened one time!"

"Good thing I grabbed hold of you – you'd have been fish food without me."

Max rolled his eyes dramatically. "Nonsense. I still maintain that I would have caught myself before I got wet; you just used it as an excuse to hold onto me." He winked at his lover and Rafael actually laughed, the alcohol he'd consumed making his cheeks a rosy pink.

"What about the rest of this journey?" Neri asked.

Arietta took a sip of her ale before putting it down on the table between them all. "Well, Nevarra is warm, warmer than Ferelden. And we will be following the river, so I expect it to be rather boggy."

"And where there's a bog, there's bugs," Rafael sighed.

"Shit, I didn't think about bugs," Max complained. "Do I know any spells that repel insects?"

"Use fire; it's the only way you'll know for sure they're dead," Neri replied.

"That'll end well," Rafael commented sarcastically.

Neri stuck her tongue out at him. "So after Nevarra we're into the Anderfels, yeah?"

"Yes," Arietta said. "We will have quite a ways to go through the desert before we reach the fortress. But I've planned the route as best I can to stay close to the cliffs and caves that litter the landscape so at least we will be able to find some shelter," Arietta explained.

"I wish the Wardens still had griffons," Neri complained. "We'd be there already if we could ride on them."

"Well,  _we_  might," Arietta mused. "I doubt you would though, given how much you struggle to ride a horse."

"It's just Terrence; he either hates me or is just utterly useless," Neri groused, sighing.

"Well, it will be too hot for our current steeds once we get to the Anderfels so we'll be changing mounts in Nevarra before we reach the desert."

"Thank fuck for that," Neri muttered.

Arietta smiled. "It won't be an easy journey by any means, but we'll manage."

"You'll have to be in charge of conversation starters, Max," Neri suggested, smirking.

"I can do that!" Max replied cheerfully. "I'll make a list," he said with a grin.

Arietta smiled, shaking her head in amusement. "For now, I think I shall call it a night; we must be up early for the ferry come morning, after all."

Neri sighed. "I'm coming with, seeing as we're stuck sharing a room and all." She got to her feet, stretching her arms above her head. "Honestly, the Queen of Ferelden couldn't even get us our own rooms?"

Arietta chuckled. "Nobody knows who I am here and I am quite enjoying the anonymity, so shared rooms will have to do."

Neri rolled her eyes and then smiled down at the boys. "Well, night then."

"Goodnight," they both replied as they settled back in their seats, wrapping arms around one another to snuggle up by the fire. Neri felt a brief pang of jealously at the sight of them looking so cosy and happy, but she forced those feelings down and nudged Barkspawn with her foot. "Come on sleepy head." Her hound got up with a big stretch and a yawn, and they all headed up the stairs together.

Their room wasn't particularly large - in fact it only had the one bed which the two of them were to share, assuming Barkspawn didn't try to sleep on it too - but it was a bed with a roof over their heads; much better than camping. The fire had been lit already and was crackling quietly as they entered. Neri headed over to her pack, rummaging through it until she found her night clothes while Barkspawn slumped down by the fire. She slipped out of her leggings and shirt and pulled on her night dress, letting out a contented sigh as she silk slid over her skin. She glanced at Arietta, a smile springing across her face at the Commander's choice in night-wear.

"Do you wear that for Alistair?" Neri asked, unable to hide her laugh.

Arietta smirked as she glanced down at her ankle length night-gown. "No. I don't wear anything, usually," she said candidly, her blue eyes twinkling, and Neri grinned.

"So why wear anything at all now?" Neri purred.

Arietta laughed. " _That's_  why. I didn't want you getting any… ideas."

Neri snorted derisively. "You think I'm gonna come onto you just because you show a little leg?" Arietta arched an eyebrow at her. "Yeah… okay, fine; I probably would. Still can though." She took a seductive step forward. "It would be fun to slowly pull that gown up and off of you, kissing my way up your body as I did so."

Arietta blushed and looked down at the ground. "You always say things like that, but I never know if you're serious or not," she mumbled.

Neri stepped closer to her, and lifted Arietta's chin up with her finger, "You're my best friend, Ari. I love you," she whispered, smiling as Arietta's breath hitched, "but you're like a sister to me." She pulled her finger away and stepped back. "So no, despite all my talk… I wouldn't." She smirked slightly. "Alistair, on the other hand, is welcome in my bed  _any_  time," she teased. Arietta gasped, and smacked Neri on the arm, grinning; Neri let out a yelp, and rubbed the abused spot with a laugh. "What? I clearly have a thing for blonds."

Arietta snorted, shaking her head. "I think three blonds in one bed would be quite enough; Alistair is mine."

Neri sighed as she flopped down onto the bed. "If only we were with them now."

Arietta sat down on the bed next to her, giving her a sad smile. "I know," she said softly. "I'm glad you're here, though; I'm not sure I'd be able to face the First Warden without my best friend at my side."

Neri smiled as she stared up at the ceiling. "Just how much of a bollocking are we in for, do you think?"

Arietta shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know."

Neri pushed up onto her elbows, frowning slightly. "Do you think they'll punish us? They won't send us into the Deep Roads, will they?" Neri asked, suddenly on edge as Tethar's words echoed through her mind, warning her not to go into the Depths.

"I have no idea, Neri," Arietta admitted. "But I suppose it's possible."

Neri chewed on her lip, scowling at the bed.

"What's wrong?"

Neri glanced up at Arietta who was watching her, head tilted slightly, and she sighed. "I suppose it should be safe here…" She looked around and then got up and closed the window, pulling the curtains to. When she turned back around, Arietta was on her feet, a worried look on her face.

"Neri, what's this about?"

"Look, I don't know a whole lot, yet, but I haven't felt right since the party with everyone and the darkspawn."

"What do you mean, you haven't felt right?"

"Headaches, shivers, déjà vu, that kinda thing," she explained quickly. "Anders tried to heal my headaches but he said it was hard to. They get worse when I think about Zev or that night with Anders under the stars." She started to pace. "I can't remember us having sex, not properly anyway. It feels wrong, more like a dream than anything." She scraped a hand through her hair, dragging her nails over her scalp, the pain calming her slightly as it often did. "We suspect blood magic, the blood mage. I think something happened to us that night, I just don't know what."

Arietta sat back down on the bed, her pretty features locked into a worried frown. "Has Anders been feeling similarly?"

"No, it's just me. But that doesn't necessarily mean he wasn't affected; I just might be better at resisting blood magic or noticing its effects. Like I said, I don't know. But when I asked Tethar about the blood mage he got… scared and refused to discuss it much, said they call her  _Chain_   _Breaker_  because she helped to free them." Arietta frown deepened at that and Neri came to a stop in front of her. "He gave me a warning too:  _don't go into the Depths_."

Arietta swallowed. "The Deep Roads," she echoed. "Why would he warn you not to go there?"

Neri shrugged a shoulder. "No idea, but I can add that to my list of reasons not to go to the Deep Roads." Neri plonked herself back down on the bed, sitting on the edge next to Ari. "Best not to mention this to anyone; Anders doesn't even know because I was worried the blood mage had been in his head – could  _still_  be in his head."

"But you don't think she's in mine?"

"I hope not."

Arietta let out a long sigh. "I hate this; why are things never simple?"

Neri leaned closer to Arietta so that she could rest her head against the human's shoulder. "Because simple would be far too boring," Neri replied softly.

There was a long pause where the crackle of the fire was the only sound in their little room.

"Thank you for telling me," Arietta whispered as she leant her head against Neri's. "I'll make sure to keep you out of the Deep Roads until we know more."

"Thanks."

The human shifted slightly, exhaling roughly through her nose. "I suppose we should actually try to sleep now," she said, and Neri sat back up nodding sleepily.

They settled under the covers together, curled up facing one another.

"Sweet dreams, and don't let the bed bugs bite," Arietta mumbled, her eyes already closing.

"Mmm, night," Neri replied. Then her eyes shot open again. "Wait,  _bed bugs_?"

Arietta smiled, her eyes staying closed. "Most inns get them."

"How the fuck am I supposed to sleep now?"

Arietta chuckled. "Count sheep or something."

Neri huffed and rolled over, trying to ignore her already itchy skin. Barkspawn took that moment to jump up onto her side of the bed, forcing her to curl her legs awkwardly to make room for him and she sighed. It was going to be a long itchy and uncomfortable night.


	60. What Are The Chances?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! Not gone two weeks! I wish I could say this was a happy chapter to help make up for how heartbreaking Trespasser was, but it isn't. Let the angst continue until it swallows the world! Really though, this one is angsty. I promise happiness soon though. *gets giddy* 
> 
> Massive thanks to my dear friend Waffles for help with this one and to my beta reader, Lys! 

Max watched Rafael's eyes changing colour from a shiny silver all the way back to a dark charcoal as the fire flickered wildly, lighting his face one moment and casting it in shadow the next. He stroked his lover's neck, his fingers lost in Rafael's loose black curls. Rafael was telling him about an old Warden he had met once called Warden Gordon, and Max found himself watching the way Rafael's lips moved as he spoke, the way his tongue would dart out to wet them or the way his lips twitched into a smile as he recalled something amusing. Max could watch him for hours, completely mesmerised, and right now he wanted nothing more than to kiss Rafael hard on those irresistible lips of his.

"And then the bronto whipped out its dick and rammed it down my throat," Rafael said, smirking, bringing Max out of his reverie quite abruptly. Rafael turned his head to look at him, one black brow arched, amused. "You weren't listening."

Max smiled, his cheeks most definitely blushing, but then again what was new? "I was staring at your lips and your eyes…" he said, actually feeling a little embarrassed about being caught.

"Perhaps we should take this upstairs?" Rafael suggested, his eyes hooding slightly.

Max smirked. "An excellent idea." He went to stand, but Rafael's hand suddenly found his thigh, gripping it tightly to keep him from leaving. Max frowned at him. "What-"

Rafael's hand moved up his thigh, squeezing erotically, and the rogue smirked at him, but the expression was forced and Rafael's eyes kept flicking over to something behind them. Maxime swallowed, his heart hammering in his chest. Rafael leaned into him, kissing gently at Max's neck, that devilish tongue of his licking at his throat, just over his pounding pulse point.

"Percy is here," Rafael whispered at his ear. Max stilled. Rafael grabbed Max's chin, turning his head roughly before kissing him full on the lips. "Don't react," Rafael said between kisses. "Relax," he ordered. Max moaned into the kiss, his hand lifting to cup Rafael's jaw. Raf broke their kiss, returning to kissing at Max's neck instead.

"You're sure it's him?" Max whispered as his head fell back, giving his lover better access to his neck.

"Yes. Even if his eyes and hair weren't a giveaway, I'd have recognised the tattoo on his shoulder anywhere," Rafael muttered against his ear. "How many armed men can you count?"

Max glanced out into the room, his eyes hooded as Rafael sucked on his earlobe. The tavern's common room had emptied considerably since dinner, even the innkeeper had vanished, but those that were left were big men, all armed; most looked to be in armour as well and they were all glancing at the blond on the far side, waiting for orders. Max did a quick count and swallowed thickly. "Too many for the two of us."

"That was my conclusion as well." Rafael kissed him again, sealing their lips together, rocking his body against Maxime's. When they parted, Rafael stayed close, panting. "Get Neri and Arietta."

Max let out a ragged breath, shaking his head slightly. "I won't leave you."

Rafael smiled sadly, resting his forehead against Max's. "You don't have a choice."

Max closed his eyes, his gut twisting. He knew they needed the others, but the thought of leaving Rafael in the same room as the man that had betrayed him was almost too much to bear. If something happened…

"It'll be okay, Max," Rafael said softly and Max opened his eyes, nodding rather reluctantly. Rafael smiled. "Be quick. I'll hold them off."

Max kissed him again, desperate and fearful, then pulled back and got to his feet, heading straight for the stairs. He didn't get more than a few feet, however, before one of the men stood up and lifted his hand. The Smite knocked the wind out of him, making his knees buckle as his head swam. He gasped for breath, doubled over on the ground, his mana gone, as he wondered why the  _fuck_  there was a Templar here at all.

Blood began to spray onto the wooden floorboards by his hands, and Max glanced up just in time to see Rafael yank his dagger free of the Templar's throat. The man collapsed to the ground, gurgling, and Max felt Rafael's reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing firmly.

The room was silent; every single man remained seated, watching Rafael and Max like hawks. The men all looked to the blond male at the far end of the tavern. Percy's green eyes were watching them, sharp and dangerous. And then his lip curled ever so slightly and he flicked his wrist. All of the men slowly got to their feet, cracking their necks and knuckles, before drawing their weapons. Max's breath hitched at the sight.

Rafael suddenly dragged him backwards until Max was slumped against the bench seat in the corner. Those grey eyes glanced down at him one final time, full of worry and determination. Max blinked a few times, trying to clear his blurred vision, trying to find words, any words, but then Rafael was turning away, holding his dagger in a defensive posture, knees bent and ready for the fight.

"What are you waiting for?" he taunted.

Two men charged forward together and Max's entire body clenched as Rafael ducked under the first blow swung at him, and grabbed that man's collar, pulling him straight onto Rafael's blade. Rafael then shoved the dying man into the second thug, making him stagger. He used that opportunity to stab the second between the ribs, finishing him off with a brutal twist.

Another three rushed forward, but Rafael danced between them, parrying and ducking quickly before he rolled away, slashing one of the men's ankles in the process. That man fell and Rafael was on him, his blade slipping effortlessly across the man's throat. He parried and then delivered a hard punch to the second's temple, before spinning gracefully out of the way of the third man's sword swing.

Rafael made fighting in close quarters look like an art, and with Max's blurred vision, it really looked like Rafael was moving faster than any human had any right to. But there were still so many men, too many men. Max wanted to help,  _needed_  to, but when he tried to call upon the Fade he was greeted by nothing but more nausea.

Max looked back up just as a sword sliced into Rafael's side, making his lover cry out; Raf rolled out of the way before the thug could finish him off, much to Max's relief. The rogue smashed a chair into his attacker, knocking the bastard to the ground before he slammed the splintered chair down onto the man's chest. He ducked quickly as another came at him, grabbing a flagon in the process, which he then used tossed into the man's face, temporarily blinding him. That man was dead before he could clear his eyes. Max watched in awe as Rafael threw his dagger into the chest of a red-haired thug, before he ducked and then disarmed yet another, taking his sword and using it to kill him. Rafael quickly collected his dagger from the other dead man and then charged back into the thick of it.

Even though Rafael had killed many of the men in the tavern, there were still too many left to fight, and Max could tell that Rafael was tiring as yet more men charged at him, all of them deliberately trying to wear him down. It was a big brute of a man that managed to get a hold of Rafael's long hair, using that to  _throw_  Rafael clear across the room and into the wall.

Max let out a shout, crying out for Raf who lay dazed on the ground trying to get back to his feet. That's when Max noticed the three men turning to look at him instead, with hungry looks on their faces. Max got to his feet, unsteadily, the room spinning, and grabbed a chair just as Raf had done. He held it out in front of him in a pathetic attempt to appear threatening. The men laughed; the biggest of the three walked forward, grabbed a chair leg and yanked the entire thing from Max's hands, leaving him entirely defenceless as a blow struck his face. He collapsed down onto the bench seat that he and Rafael had shared together not so long ago, his vision whiting out as pain rang out across his jaw.

He cried out as the thug grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged Max to his feet; his cries were immediately silenced, however, when he felt the cold bite of steel rest against his neck. The man holding him captive whistled, and suddenly Rafael ceased fighting, shoving a man he had been trading blows with back against the bar as he lifted up his own dagger, surrendering.

" _No_ ," Max sobbed out, struggling in his attacker's arms.

"Shut it, mage-boy," the man growled, bringing that blade tighter to Max's neck.

The blond at the other end of the tavern stood and clapped his hands, a wicked smirk playing at his lips as he walked toward Rafael. "Bravo,  _vieil ami_. I had wrongly assumed fighting darkspawn would have dulled your skills with fights such as these. I am so very glad I was mistaken; you're just as impressive to watch as you ever were, 'Ael," Percy said, as his eyes raked up Rafael's sweat slicked and bloodied body. Max could see Rafael's breath hitch even from here and his fists clenched at his sides.

"What are you doing here, Percy?" Rafael panted out, casting a brief but worried look at Max.

"Same as you, I should think," Percy said, nonchalantly. "My men and I were only stopping here for the night before we take ship on the morrow."

"Then why attack me?" Rafael hissed, wincing as he took a step forward, the wound in his side obviously causing him some grief. Max longed to reach out and heal that cut, but still his mana remained absent.

Percy sighed. "Because you planned to attack  _me_  first; you were sending your…" the blond glanced at Max, sneering slightly, " _lover_  to get the help of your other companions, were you not?" He shook his head slightly, looking disgusted.

Rafael's grip on the dagger still in his hand tightened and Max could see the cogs turning in his head as he tried to come up with a way out of this mess. "That's hardly a surprise, is it? I didn't trust you not to stab me in the back again," Rafael said acerbically.

"You would deserve it, for everything you did," Percy spat.

" _You_  betrayed  _me,_  and I finally moved on, so what the fuck is your problem?" Rafael growled.

" _I_  betrayed  _you?_ " Percy echoed in disbelief. "We're gonna have a little chat, you and I, 'Ael." He glanced at Max and the man standing behind him holding the knife. "Mathieu, bring the mage over here." Max was forcefully shoved forward, that knife biting into his neck just below his rather overgrown neck beard. They walked down a narrow corridor, Rafael in front, followed by Percy and then Max and this Mathieu person. Percy nodded for Rafael to enter a side room, which the rogue did, before Percy followed him in afterwards. "Wait outside, but stay where we can see you," Percy instructed his apparent second-in-command. "The rest of you can go back to drinking."

Max and his captor waited outside of the closed door; there was a glass pane in the top half of the door that allowed Max to see inside the smaller common room. Both men remained on their feet; Rafael was in the corner, he still had his dagger in hand not that Percy seemed to care seeing as Max was still mana-less and held hostage. Percy paced, looking agitated, and Rafael's gaze followed him wearily. Max wasn't sure if he would be able to hear much through the door but just watching how uptight Rafael looked was making his heart clench.

Rafael watched Percy pace up and down the small space. He had always been quite cat-like with his bright green eyes and agile movements and despite Rafael being rather trapped in this current situation, it was Percy that looked like the caged animal. He glanced at Max, hating that he had a knife at his throat; it was too much like Layla. In one quick motion he could be gone and there would be nothing Rafael could do – No. There were plenty of things he could do. He just needed to figure out which would work in this current situation. He couldn't freak out now; he needed to focus. Percy finally stopped his pacing and faced him, his eyes were flickering with fury and Rafael's breath hitched at the sight.

"I  _loved_  you, 'Ael," Percy hissed, his body trembling with anger. "I had never admitted that to  _anyone_  before you, especially not to a man. And I thought you felt the same way," he shook his head, his jaw clenched, "but I was just a convenient hole for you to shove your cock into." Percy's voice cracked with rage and his face hardened. "You're a piece of shit, Rafael;  _that's_  my fucking problem."

Rafael stared, frowning at the man in front of him; he could see no lie on Percy's face and that only served to deepen his frown. "What the fuck gave you that idea?" he asked, his own voice little more than a rasp.

Percy looked away again and paced once more. "Do you remember our last night together?" he asked in a scarily even voice. Rafael gave a slight shake of his head. He had been drinking that night, heavily.

"You were drunk, so I suppose that's not surprising. You were always pissed out of your mind back then. Every bloody time you came in stinking of piss and booze, I would drag you into bed, clean you up, tug your piss-soaked clothes off of you and make sure you didn't drown in your own vomit as you slept. And then a week later I'd do it all again when you disappeared for days on some fucking bender."

The blond stopped a few feet in front of Rafael, green eyes hard. "That night you came home worse than usual. When I tried to get you into bed, you fought me, tried to get my trousers down. I stopped you, but that didn't stop you using my leg, rutting against it until you finally found release." His lip curled. "Do you know what you said when you came?"

Rafael swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly very dry.

" _Layla_ ," Percy hissed. Rafael's face paled.

Max had heard the gist of the conversation from inside the room; Raf had been a right hot mess and Percy had been the one to always look after him. But that one word was crystal clear.  _Layla_. She was Rafael's first love. They had been colleagues in Rafael's mercenary group, until Layla had been murdered right in front of Rafael with him helpless to stop it. He didn't talk about her often and Max never pressed him for more information. But the way Rafael's face paled at the mention of her was enough to make Max bite his lip in worry.

"You told me she was just some girl you lost your virginity to! Imagine my surprise when I found out from the others that she was your first love, that she had been  _murdered_  in front of you, that you had been fucking and boozing your way through the entire city ever since?" Percy was furious and said all of that loud enough for Max to hear. "While I waited for you to come home, wondering if you were face down in some gutter, you were actually out fucking other people!" Percy was shouting now, seething. "How could you do that to me when you fucking  _knew_  how I felt about you?

"You were  _using_  me," Percy continued. "Every time we had sex, every time you fucked me, you were thinking about  _her_." He straightened, eyes narrowing. "So do not accuse me of betraying  _you_ , because it was you that betrayed  _me_  first."

It had never even crossed Rafael's mind that he might have upset Percy back then, as selfish as that was, he had been grieving at the time and struggling to handle his growing feelings for Percy. All this time he had been trying to wrap his head around  _why_  Percy would betray him. He had honestly believed that Percy had lied to him all along and was actually just a selfish bastard… he'd never considered that it might have been his own actions that drove him to do such a thing to him.

Rafael shook his head and took a step forward. "Percy…" he said shakily, needing to fix this, needing to stop things from getting worse than they already were-

" _Don't!_ " Percy snarled. "I don't want to hear your bullshit anymore. I told you  _everything_ ; you knew me better than anyone else! But I barely knew you at all, did I?" His voice was breaking again, and he swallowed. "You used me to fuck away the grief and the pain," he whispered harshly. "You never cared for me," he said, before spitting on the ground at Rafael's feet. Rafael stared on, speechless; he could feel the tears prickling his eyes.

"I hated you after that," Percy continued. "I wanted you to suffer for making me look like an idiot, for breaking my fucking heart," he bit out. "But I still fucking loved you, didn't I? I couldn't stop thinking about you. I actually missed you," he said with a humourless, self-depreciating laugh. Rafael didn't know what to say. What  _could_  he say? The truth. He needed to tell the truth for once; he'd lied too much to Percy already.

"Do you love him?" Percy suddenly asked in a whisper. Rafael frowned and Percy rolled his eyes. "The mage," he clarified.

Rafael glanced at his lover. Max looked so worried; he had bitten into his lip so hard it had started bleeding. Usually when that happened Rafael would be there to kiss away the blood but now… No. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to get Max and himself safely out of this situation.

He nodded feebly at Percy, almost on the verge of tears. "I do," he said hoarsely.

Percy's lip twisted in disgust and he shook his head. "Why?" he asked angrily? "Why do you love  _him_?"

The truth, he reminded himself. He sighed, his shoulders slumping and he met Percy's gaze. "For the same reasons I loved you," he said softly giving Percy a sad smile. He dropped his dagger to the ground and kicked it away, surprising Percy. "Max was a breath of fresh air when I was in a bad place, just as you were for me all those years ago." He took a cautious step forward and Percy watched him carefully, still not trusting.

"We were good together," Rafael said loud enough for Max to hear and his chest tightened uncomfortably.

"I thought so too," Percy replied, fists clenched, "but I was wrong," he said firmly.

"You weren't," Rafael insisted as he stepped forward again. Rafael was close enough for Max to read his lips now as well as better hear the muffled conversation. "I loved being with you, loved everything about you," he said, swallowing thickly, like the words were hard to admit. "I loved your laugh," Rafael confessed as he shrugged out of his leather jerkin, letting it drop to the ground. Max frowned in confusion, uncertain why Rafael was disarming quite so thoroughly before the blond rogue. "Your throaty chuckle never failed to make me smile." Rafael's shirt came off next, revealing the tanned expanse of Rafael's torso and the deep gash in his side, still bleeding heavily. Percy watched him, frowning slightly but didn't move away or stop him. "I loved your wonky tooth and the grin you always tried to hide." Percy seemed to blush a little at that as he looked down at the ground, avoiding Rafael's gaze. "I loved that your middle toe was longer than your big toe," Raf said, smiling as he took another cautious step forward toward Percy.  _That smile_ , Max thought, Maker that was  _his_  smile, the one Rafael only ever let him see.

"I just wasn't good at showing those things," Rafael said, his voice cracking. Rafael could hear Percy's shallow breaths now, could see him struggling to swallow; he was just as affected by all of this as Rafael was. "I was afraid to fall in love again, afraid to admit that I already had…"

Max's mouth went dry and he felt nauseous again. Both men were standing so close together now and the sexual tension between them was palpable. Max had never considered that Rafael might  _still_  have feelings for Percy, that meeting him might bring those feelings to the surface once more. And he certainly didn't expect that Percy still loved  _him_. He felt threatened, and not just because there was a knife still at his throat.

"And so I drank and slept around. And sometimes… sometimes I  _did_  think of Layla while I was with you, but those times were few and far between the longer we were together, Perc," he said as earnestly as he could. Percy's gaze flicked back up to his, obviously searching his face for truth. He smiled again, his eyes misting over. "Layla was my first love, and even now, all these years later, I have not forgotten her. I never will. But that doesn't mean I couldn't - _can't_ \- love others, too."

Percy swallowed thickly and his eyes were shiny with tears.

"And damn it all," Rafael hissed, "but I still love you; I thought I hated you enough, thought I had moved on enough that I wouldn't be affected by you if I ever saw you again. But seeing you again…  _Maker_ , Perc, but you look breath-taking," Rafael murmured, his voice thick and husky, a tone usually reserved for Max and Max alone. Both men were standing mere inches apart now, chests heaving as they stared into one another's eyes.

"So do you," Percy breathed. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Rafael lifted a hand to brush away Percy's hair from his face, a soft adoring smile on his face. Rafael leant in slowly, cautiously, both of them staring at one another, panting, and then their lips touched.

Tears fell from Max's eyes as that cautious kiss grew more heated as the men locked tongues together. He felt like someone had just punched him in his gut as Percy's fingers slid up Rafael's chest, stopping at the nape of his neck, getting lost in Rafael's hairline as Max had been doing earlier, before their evening had been ruined. Rafael pushed Percy against the wall, pressing his body tight to him, his hips grinding wantonly against the blond. The minutes dragged on, both men kissing frantically against the wall, hands lost in each other's hair, both of them moaning softly into one another's mouths, and Max couldn't look away, even if his vision was blurred by his tears.

Rafael finally pulled back, breathless, his chest heaving. "Fuck," he hissed out. "I missed you." Percy looked dazed from the kiss, his cheeks flushed, and Rafael leaned in and kissed at his neck instead. "You smell the same," he murmured as he kissed his way to Percy's pulse point. He sucked on that spot and Percy moaned, his hands fisted in Rafael's hair, urging him on. "I am so sorry I hurt you, Perc," he said between kisses. "I was such an idiot." He kissed him desperately on the lips again, plunging his tongue into the blond's opened mouth. Percy grabbed his shoulders and swapped their positions, shoving Rafael hard against the wall, their kiss deepening once again.

"I need you, please, is there anywhere we can go that's more private?" Rafael asked, not even bothering to look at Max.

"I have a room," Percy murmured as he kissed along Rafael's jaw. "I'm going to fuck you so hard."

Rafael groaned, tilting his head so that Percy could nip and suck at his ear. "Fuck, yes," he hissed.

"What about your mage?" Percy asked breathlessly. Rafael finally looked up at the door and his heart shattered. Max was watching still with tears streaming down his face, those usually bright and cheerful eyes looked black and dead. Percy pressed himself closer to him, their hips touching. Rafael could feel Percy's hard length rub against him, and the blond let out a hiss when he found Rafael soft. Percy pulled back from him, sucking a breath violently in through his teeth.

"You fucking bastard," Percy growled, "You're using me again!"

 _Fuck_ , was all Rafael had time to think before he was shoving Percy into a table and diving for his dagger.

"Kill the mage!" Percy ordered as he grunted in pain.

" _No!"_ Rafael screamed. He grabbed his dagger and got to his feet. He was about to toss his blade into Percy's chest when he heard the thug holding Max scream. Percy's face twisted with rage and he charged for the door. Rafael intercepted him and Percy was forced to draw his short sword to parry Rafael's blows but Rafael was faster than him and managed to stab him between the ribs and kick him backwards before he scrambled out of the door toward Max.

Max scrambled away from Mathieu, his mana somewhat back, as the man batted at the flames on his armour. Rafael suddenly came staggering out of the side room; he brought his dagger quickly and cleanly across Mathieu's throat and then ran toward Max.

"Down!" he hissed and Max ducked. Rafael's blade flew through the air over Max's head and thudded into something. Max turned just as one of the mercenaries dropped to the ground, gurgling. Rafael rushed forward and collected his dagger from the corpse and then flew into battle with the remaining mercs. Max sent ice flying at one attacker, freezing one of his legs to the ground; the man fumbled, trying to free himself and Rafael ended his life quickly, before moving onto the next three. They were wearing plate armour and Max had just enough mana left to conjure an arc of lighting to hit them all, making them stagger long enough for Rafael to finish them off. There were only a few left now and Max smiled; they could win this. They would be alright-

Max screamed as he was yanked backwards by his hair. The cold bite of steel returned to his throat and his breath hitched.  _Oh Maker, please not like this; Rafael can't watch another person he loves die like this_! His eyes locked with Rafael's and he could tell the rogue was thinking the same thing, his eyes wide in horrified realisation.

"You traitorous bastard," Percy snarled, his voice filled with malice, "Say goodbye-"

Max barely had time to gasp before Rafael's blade was slamming into Percy's face, a mere inch from his own. The blond staggered and the knife at Max's throat dropped to the ground, quickly followed by Percy's body. Max just stood there, stunned, frozen in shock. Rafael was staring at him in just as much shock, like he couldn't believe that had actually worked. The room was silent and the remaining mercenaries all looked at one another, clearly deciding if it was going to be worth it to stay and fight. Rafael turned to face them, panting hard; he arched a brow at them, daring them to try. Wisely, the men fled out the front door.

Max dropped to his knees in relief; Rafael ran to him and fell to his knees in front of him. He was still shirtless, his skin covered in sweat, his chest heaving but he was here, he was okay, they both were. Max couldn't believe it.

"Max, I-"

He pulled Rafael into a hug, the tears falling once more down his face. Rafael's arms wrapped around his back and clutched his robes, pulling him closer.

"Max, oh Max," Rafael murmured, his whole body trembling. "I was waiting for your mana to come back… I had to… I had to distract him," he said shakily.

"I know," Max said softly as he hugged Rafael tighter.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, oh Maker, I am  _so_  sorry," Rafael sobbed into his shoulder,

"It's okay, mon amour," he pulled back enough to kiss the side of Rafael's face, kissing away the tears, "we're both safe now."

"I nearly lost you," Rafael whispered, voice raw.

"I– I know. Maker. I know. I don't even know how you managed that shot," Max rambled.

"I practiced. After Layla…" Rafael shuddered and Max squeezed his eyes shut, stroking Rafael's hair. "I didn't want to be helpless again, Max."

"Maker," Max breathed.

There was a creak from behind them, and they both looked up to see Neri in her silk nightie standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring slack-jawed at the carnage in the room. " _Andraste's holy meatballs,"_ she exclaimed. Her eyes found them embracing on the floor. "What  _happened_?" she asked, dumbfounded.

Max, for once, was speechless. How could he even explain what had just happened? He still couldn't believe it himself.

"Bar fight," Rafael croaked. Max let out a wheezy if slightly hysterical laugh.

Neri's brows arched in surprise and she blinked a few times. "And I actually slept through that?" she asked as she stepped over a few bodies near the stairs. She took in the carnage all around them with wide stunned eyes before her gaze returned to them. "Are you both okay?" Max managed a nod even as he sniffed loudly and pulled back enough from Raf to wipe his nose. The rogue was just staring at Percy's corpse, his expression horrified like he only just comprehended the fact that Percy was dead. Max touched his chin and pulled his gaze to him.

"Come on," he said quietly. "I need to heal your injuries and then we need to rest."

Neri moved over to the bar and rummaged through the shelves until she found a bottle of wine; she uncorked it and took a long swig from it. She wiped her lip and watched them as Max slowly helped Rafael to his feet.

"I suppose you want me to clear this up?" she asked, looking unimpressed.

Max swallowed guiltily, "Could you?" he asked feebly as he clung to Rafael.

Neri sighed but nodded all the same. "Yeah, I got this. Go rest."


	61. Hatcher of plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ECLECTIFY DID ART OF NERI AND IT IS AMAZING! 
> 
> You should ALL go check out her tumblr! http://eclectify.tumblr.com/ (I cannnoot remember how to do hyperlinks so whatevvaaa) But yes! Go stare at the amazing art! <333333
> 
> Huge thanks to Lys as always for the beta! 
> 
> I promised happiness, I hope I deliver with this one! Let me know, yeah? <333333

 

Neri glared up at the sunlight just beginning to filter in through the tavern's windows. It was dawn and she was  _still_  cleaning up the mess Rafael and Max had left behind. There had been blood everywhere, even on the fucking ceiling. That had been a bitch to scrub off. There were broken chairs and tables and flagons too, and of course a shit load of corpses. She had very grumpily dumped them all in the ocean, feeling very much like her new profession was corpse courier. She hoped that by the time anyone found the bodies they'd all be on the ferry and half way to Cumberland, and if they weren't, well she doubted people would care all that much about some dead mercs. And she was certain that that's what they were; they all had the same tattoo as Rafael: the red hammer. Based on that, she had assumed that the dead blond with Rafael's dagger buried in his face was Rafael's betrayer, not that she could recall the prick's name. She'd tossed him naked into the ocean for ruining everyone's evening.

She felt like doing the same thing to the cowardly tavern owner too. The bastard had crept out of his quarters not long before dawn, obviously expecting to find the tavern in shambles. He'd stared at her in surprise as he looked around at his rather clean tavern, and she had glared at him. He'd been bribed to keep his mouth shut and stay out of the way. Neri couldn't really fault him for that; there had been  _a lot_  of mercenaries. She still took the bribe money though, and then ordered him to make her and her friends breakfast. She could smell it cooking now and smiled. Orlesians made the best pastries.

"Neri?" a slightly raspy voiced Arietta asked from the bottom of the stairs. The human was rubbing at her eyes, blinking in confusion at the sight of Neri on her hands and knees, scrubbing the stone ground and next to her Barkspawn was on his haunches looking just as confused with his head tilted.

"Morning," Neri said with a small smile. Her hound approached her, sniffing the bloodied water in the bucket with a whine before he nuzzled her.

Arietta remained standing and staring, a frown forming between her eyes. She looked pretty cute all confused actually; it wasn't like Neri saw that expression often, and with Ari's hair all mussed up from sleep it was hard not to coo at her. Arietta looked around the room, clearly trying to figure things out.

"…Did Raf and Max get into a fight?" the perceptive human asked.

"What made you think that?" Neri asked, hiding a smirk.

"There's a table missing, and two chairs, and you're on your hands and knees making this place look spotless."

Neri snorted and smiled as she rung out her rag in the bucket of now mostly cold water. "They did," Neri admitted as she stroked Barkspawn's head.

"Maker," Arietta hissed, "Who with? What were they thinking? And how did I sleep through that?"

Neri got to her feet and moved the bucket to behind the bar. "It was with that guy, the one from Raf's old merc group, the one who betrayed him."

" _Percy?"_

"Yeah, him. Or at least I'm pretty sure it was. He had the same tattoo." Neri shrugged and leant against the bar. "I came down for a drink and found Max and Raf just holding one another on the ground surrounded by corpses. They both looked pretty fucked up so I told them to go rest, so I don't really know much more than that."

Arietta ran a hand worriedly through her hair, mussing it up further. "I hope they're okay," she sighed. "Thank you for cleaning this place up." She glanced around the room again, her lips pursing thoughtfully. "What did you do with the bodies?" she asked, looking at Neri once more.

"Ocean."

Arietta arched a brow at her, "The ocean?"

"Yeah…"

"Where, exactly?"

"I dunno, just down the road a bit. It was dark, okay?"

Arietta closed her eyes, sighing. "This is a port city, Neri."

"So?" Neri said, straightening her back defensively.

Arietta gave her a look. "People work and live on the seafront."

"And?"

" _And_  those bodies aren't going to be hidden for long. I wouldn't be shocked to hear if they'd already been found."

"What does it matter if they are? Nobody's gonna care about some stupid mercenaries."

"How many bodies were there?"

Neri sighed, "I don't know. A lot."

"People are going to care, Neri, especially other members of that merc group. We probably shouldn't linger here long."

"Well I'm not getting on any ship without breakfast first. I'll go chase it up."

"I'll let the boys rest a little longer… but then we really should make a move." Neri nodded noncommittally and headed into the kitchen.

* * *

 

Neri and Arietta had stuffed their faces with porridge, pastries and breads by the time the boys came downstairs and joined them. Neri's warm greeting smile dropped as she saw the state both men were in; they looked utterly exhausted both physically and mentally, their gazes downcast, expressions grim as they silently came to sit at the table. She doubted either of them had slept much, too haunted by whatever had transpired the night before.

"We saved you some food, barely," Arietta said, with a chastising smile aimed at Neri as she handed Max the pot of porridge bubbling gently over the fire to keep warm.

Max nodded in thanks, taking it from her so that he could fill his bowl. He offered it to Rafael but the rogue shook his head and listlessly picked up a roll from the centre of the table instead. Max handed the pot back to Arietta, his shoulders slumped and looking close to tears. They ate in silence with Rafael barely picking at his roll. Neri tapped her foot, watching them keenly. Raf had bruising over much of his face and dark bags under his eyes. Max looked just as bad; his hair was a mess, his face paler than usual and he looked to be a little beat up too, if the cut on his neck was anything to go by.

"So, I guess your reunion with Percy didn't go too well?" Neri asked.

"Neri," Arietta sighed, shaking her head. "I know we talked about your lack of tact but…"

"Oh come off it, you're just as curious."

"I am. But there's a time and a place for such things."

Neri rolled her eyes. "Well it might as well be now."

"Can we not?" Max asked, his voice hoarse. He was watching Neri, his eyes shining, no fight in him.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"What did you do with his body?" Rafael asked, his grey eyes flicking up to her, holding her gaze.

"It's in the ocean, with the rest of them." She left out the part where he was without his clothes. She doubted that would help matters. Rafael nodded and looked back down at the table, his eyes misting over. "He always liked the sea."

"Well I didn't do it as a sign of respect to him," she bit out. He gave a stiff nod, his jaw clenched, and said no more.

"We should leave," Arietta said, "I don't want us to get held up by the authorities or by other mercenaries. A ship leaves in half an hour for Cumberland." She got up from the table, giving the boys a sympathetic look, "We will need to discuss this later. For now, finish up with breakfast and pack your things, I'll see you back down here in fifteen."

"Could you pack my things?" Neri asked the human; Arietta gave her a puzzled frown and Neri smiled, "I want to run an errand. It won't take long. I'll meet you at the Docks."

"Neri… now is not the time to be running off alone."

"I'll be fine and I'll be back before you can spell  _precipitevolissimevolmente,"_ she said with a smirk, putting on an Antivan accent for effect. Arietta blinked at her and Neri grinned. "See?" She laughed as she headed to the door.

* * *

 

As expected, Neri's errand hadn't taken her long, and soon she was back at the Docks, grinning as she spotted the others waiting at what she assumed was the 'ferry'. It was actually a huge trade-cog, one of those big flat-bottomed ships with tall sides. Neri  _may_  have done quite a bit of reading about ships after meeting Matthew Merton at Arietta and Alistair's wedding, given his love for the damned things. This kind of ship could get into shallow harbours easily to load and unload goods, perfect for a passenger ship crossing the Waking Sea.

Neri was actually pretty excited about getting on a boat; nervous, too, about potential seasickness, but the excitement overruled her nerves. She practically skipped along the docks, breathing in the sea-salt air with a smile.

Arietta greeted her with an arched brow, glancing up at the sun. "You're late."

Neri grinned. "Nonsense, the ship's still here." Arietta rolled her eyes at that, her lips turned up in a small smile.

" _I_  made them wait," she said, turning to walk up the gangway. "Come on."

Neri followed after her, linking her arm through Arietta's. "This is so exciting!"

"You might not be so excited in a minute, Neri. The captain is expecting rough seas. I'm worried that even my sea legs won't cope very well; it has been several years since I was at sea, after all."

"Well, I'm still excited; we get to go to  _Cumberland_  after this."

Arietta let out a small sigh as she walked off of the gangway with Neri and onto the ship's deck. The captain saluted her and then barked out some more orders in Orlesian to his crew. Behind them Max and Raf boarded the ship too, both men still silent with Barkspawn at their side; apparently her hound was worried about them because he kept licking their hands and nudging them toward one another. What a good dog. "I told you, Neri; we're only travelling  _through_  Cumberland. We can visit the city properly on our return journey."

Neri smirked at Arietta. "We'll see."

She let go of Arietta's arm and rushed over to the front of the ship, standing up on the very edge of the bow, practically leaning over the edge as she clung to the ropes. A horn sounded from behind her, echoing right across the harbour, and then the ship shuddered as it slid away from the dock. It turned slowly, the large forward sail flapping gently above her head as it began to head out to sea. The ship barely rocked at all, just swaying ever so slightly. Then the sail changed position above her and it shook violently as it filled with wind; the ship charged forward, cutting through the waves. Neri's hair was pushed back from her face, the curls blowing in the wind. She grinned, leaning into the wind's caress, her eyes closed.

The ship began to rock more fiercely then, leaving the shelter of the harbour as it finally reached the open sea. Neri held on a little more tightly but she rather enjoyed the rocking and the way the front of the ship smashed into waves, soaring upwards before crashing back down; it was exhilarating. She turned, hearing the tell-tale sounds of someone heaving, surprised to find Arietta leaning over the rail instead of Max. Neri chuckled and Arietta lifted her hand to Neri, giving her the finger, but that only made Neri laugh louder. Her eyes found Max and Rafael next. Max looked queasy as he gripped the ship's side but didn't seem to be hurling just yet. Rafael still looked haggard but seasickness didn't seem to be something he suffered from.

It was as Neri looked back to the water however that something caught her eye and she squealed in delight. "Dolphins!" she screeched happily. "There are dolphins! Actual dolphins!" She leaned over the edge of the ship, laughing merrily as the shiny grey creatures jumped out of the water alongside the ship, riding the frothy waves.

Arietta threw up again and Neri smacked her arm. "You nearly got vomit on them!" she scolded. Arietta groaned, glaring at her.

"You are such a supportive friend, Neri," Arietta snarked.

"I can be supportive whenever, but how often am I gonna see  _dolphins?_ "

Arietta clutched her stomach, grimacing in pain. "I'll go to the back of the ship then shall I?"

Neri slapped her on the back, a cheeky grin on her face. "Thanks, you're a doll."

Arietta rolled her eyes and made her way carefully to the back of the ship, and Neri returned to watching the dolphins leaping through the air on the ship's starboard side. She reached down, trying to touch them. The ferry was really moving now, the ship kicking up a load of sea-spray, cooling her arm in the warm morning sun. A dolphin further from the ship leapt up into the air, spinning, and Neri let out a loud cheer, laughing loudly. Above she noticed the sky growing dark and her grin widened.

She turned back around, noticing that Max was now standing with Arietta at the back of the ship, throwing up over the side, and Rafael was alone, sitting with his back against the main mast. She ran over to him, wobbling a lot as the ship rocked dramatically, nearly making her lose her footing.

"You have to come see this!" she informed him excitedly.

"See what?"

"Just… come on!" He glanced up at her, scowling, but she grabbed his arm, dragging him to his feet. "This way," she said as she grabbed a hold of the mast's ladder.

"Neri…" he began, shaking his head.

"You owe me for clearing up all of those corpses last night. Now move that sexy ass of yours." She smacked him on the butt, pushing him toward the ladder. He glared at her but took a hold of it and began to climb. She joined him, getting a lovely view in the process.

Rafael offered her his hand once they reached the empty Crow's nest, pulling her up and into it. She grinned, nodding her thanks. And then she whistled at the view all around them. The glistening ocean looked beautiful from up here; she could see all of the big waves slowly moving across the sea's surface, breaking occasionally with frothy white foam. There were a few ships dotted around, all chugging along, bobbing up and down on the rough waters, some small, some huge with massive white sails that billowed in the wind. It was the sky, however, that Neri stared at the most in awe.

High above them, the sky had turned black as a flock of tiny black birds soared through the air. They twirled and dived together in perfect harmony, looking like waves breaking against the shore as the flock folded over itself, the birds somehow managing not to collide with one another. They circled the ship, spinning around it in intricate patterns, the beat of their wings filling the air. It was breath-taking.

Neri looked at Rafael, smiling as he too stared in awe at the view, following the birds as they soared through the air. A smile twitched at his lips and he glanced at Neri.

"Thank you," he said quietly, giving her a slight nod.

She grinned, threading her arm through his. "You're welcome; I figured you needed the distraction."

"I did." He sighed. "Percy… he thought I was using him, that I didn't care for him at all. That's why he betrayed me."

"Did you give him reason to think that you were using him?"

Rafael glanced down, his face darkening with guilt. "Yes. I hadn't realised until he pointed it out, just how much I had hurt him." He shook his head, frowning. "I had to hurt him again to save Max, had to take his life."

"And you feel guilty about that?" Neri prompted.

"No. I feel guilty because if I could change any of that, go back and fix things, I wouldn't, because meeting Max was the best thing that ever happened to me." He slumped against the rail. "I kissed Percy, tricked him into thinking I still wasn't over him, all so I could save Max. There's  _nothing_  I wouldn't do to protect him, to keep him at my side." He took a shuddering breath. When he looked at her, his eyes were brimming with tears. "I – I want to ask him to marry me."

Neri let out the most undignified squeal as she bear-hugged Rafael, practically strangling him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled back to look at him, grinning, before squealing once more and returning to hugging him to death. He finally untangled himself from her, groaning, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I have no idea how to do this," he admitted.

"You just have to say 'Max, will you marry me?'" she teased and he narrowed his eyes at her. "Alright, alright," she relented, laughing. She paced the Crow's nest, tapping her chin with her finger. "Have you been to Cumberland before?"

"Only once. A long time ago."

"What did you do there?"

"We were just passing through the city. It was before we were officially dating, although we were still close."

"So you didn't stop at all?"

"Only for a few drinks at a tavern, but Max  _did_  steal me away for a quiet moment. We kissed on a bridge over the Cumber. That was our final moment of privacy until we were in the Deep Roads… that was actually the expedition where Max and I got locked in together for a week."

Neri smirked. "Then this will be easy. I'll convince Arietta to let us stay the night in Cumberland; I'll keep Max busy while you set things up. Then we can go to that tavern for drinks and you two can sneak off."

Rafael took a shaky breath and nodded. He swallowed. "What if he says no?"

Neri laughed but when Rafael didn't smile or relax she stopped and looked at him sympathetically. "Raf, he's  _crazy_  about you. He'll say yes."

"I hope you're right." He rubbed his face. "Should I get a ring?"

"Sure, if you want. I'm sure Cumberland has plenty of jewellers."

"Are you sure we should do this now? I've barely spoken to Max about Percy…"

Neri shrugged. "Well, do you really want to wait another month until we're back here again?"

"Good point." He sighed heavily, his hands trembling slightly.

She smiled. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know."

He gave her a look and then smiled, shaking his head.

"I'm going to go check on the others," she said, squeezing his shoulder. He gave her a teary smile, nodding. "Enjoy the view."

"I will. Thank you again, Neri." She flashed him a grin, then climbed back down the ladder.

Neri walked toward Arietta who was still leaning against the far rail, rubbing at her temple. "Still feel sick, huh?" Neri asked.

Arietta nodded, sighing. "I've not been this seasick for years," she groused.

Neri moved closer to her, rubbing small circles across her back. "And Max?"

"He went downstairs, said he wanted to try lying down. Me, I'm not moving from this spot; being out in the fresh air at the back of the ship seems to be the only thing keeping me from hurling some more at the moment."

"I could try magic, you know."

"Try," Arietta said, considering the word; her face scrunched up, apparently deciding she didn't like the sound of that. "No, I think I'll just wait it out."

Neri shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'll go check on Max."

Arietta grabbed her wrist, looking at her curiously. "Did Rafael say much?"

Neri couldn't hide the smirk that broke out across her face. "A little." The human tilted her head, brows furrowing in question. "We're going to need to stay the night in Cumberland."

Arietta sighed. "Neri…"

"This is important," Neri replied. "Raf's gonna propose!"

Arietta's face, despite looking rather rough from the seasickness, lit up at that, a bright smile blooming across her lips. She lifted her hands to her lips, trying to contain of cheerful cry.

Neri laughed. "That was my reaction, more or less."

"That is such wonderful news," Arietta gushed. "Oh Maker, I'm so happy for them. Where do you think they'll marry? Whose name will they take, if any? And where will they honeymoon?" she rambled on, bubbling with excitement.

"Max has to say yes first," Neri deadpanned.

Both of them burst out laughing.

Neri wiped her eyes, smiling. "I'm going to go check on him. But seeing as we're going to be staying in Cumberland… I want to visit the College of Magi."

Arietta's expression grew more serious and slightly puzzled. "How come?"

"It's the Circle they use to hold all of the conclaves, and Max says they have a library to rival the White Spire's. They might have books on Wardens that we could use. And I've never been in another Circle before; I just… want to see what others are like. I might need you in order to get in though, depending on how strict the Templars there are."

Arietta chuckled. "I'll come with you; we wouldn't want the Templars accidentally locking you up, now would we?"

Neri smirked. "I'd like to see them try."

She headed down the stairs to the lower deck and immediately headed to Max's room. She knocked on his door; a groan answered her and she pushed it open. Max was curled up on his side, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to lie perfectly still with Barkspawn sitting in front of him, whining. Neri walked in and stroked by Barkspawn before she kneeled on the ground next to Max's bed and pushed his messy hair away from his sweaty face. His eyes blinked open to look at her, dull and tired.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," he said back, his voice little more than a croak. The ship rocked violently again and Max's entire body clenched, a groan leaving his lips as he gripped the bed tightly.

Neri held out her hands over his stomach and head, wanting to help. She let her force magic wash over him, willing his stomach to still and his head to stop spinning. After a few moments he sighed in relief, his eyes opening once again. Even as the ship continued to rock violently, her magic stopped him from feeling the symptoms of seasickness.

He smiled at her. "If my breath didn't smell like vomit, I would kiss you," he said lightly, looking a thousand times happier than he had a moment ago.

Neri kissed him on the nose, grinning, and Max let out a quiet laugh. "Glad I could help," she said, meaning it. "Apart from the seasickness, how are you feeling?"

Max sat up slowly and patted the bed next to him, offering her a seat, which she gratefully took. Barkspawn came and sat next to her, plonking his heavy head in her lap. She stroked him absentmindedly as she watched Max sigh. "I feel… exhausted. First I thought I would lose Rafael because we were grossly outnumbered and a Templar mercenary had smited me, rendering me useless. And then I thought I had lost him to Percy… they kissed-" He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "And then I nearly died. I thought Raf was going to have to watch another of his lovers have their throat slit right in front of him. I couldn't… just the thought of that-" He shook his head, his lip trembling. Neri's heart broke at the sight. He was incredible. He had been about to die and all he could think of was how  _Rafael_  would feel, what that would do to him. "Then after, Raf was so broken, so quiet; he's barely said a word to me at all since I took him up to bed. I don't know what he needs, what he wants, so I'm giving him space, but it's so hard; I just want to be at his side, just want to know that  _we're_  okay."

Neri cupped Max's hand and squeezed. "Seems like he's got some stuff to sort through still. Give him a bit more time, Max; I'm sure he'll come around." Max slumped back against the wall, sighing, and Neri leaned in closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. "We're going to stay in Cumberland for a night; all of us could use a proper rest after everything. I figured we could go to the College of Magi together… if you want to, that is."

"I'd like that; I've always wanted to see it, and a distraction sounds ideal right about now."

"Then it's settled," Neri said, smiling. She slid off of the bed. "Get some rest, Max. I'll stay here and keep the seasickness away."

"Oh, Neri…"

"It's fine. It's a simple spell to cast so it won't tire me out too much. Sleep," she coaxed. Max settled back down on his side, taking deep slow breaths as his eyes fluttered shut.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

"Any time," she whispered, settling back on the floor within easy reach of him so she could keep her spell going.

* * *

 

Dairsmuid was much like his beautiful Antiva City, crowded and filthy in parts, spacious and beautiful in others. The people, however, were very different. In Antiva it was every man for himself; a selfish approach to life, perhaps, but that was just how things were in Antiva. The Rivaini, by contrast, welcomed all with open arms, right into their marvellous bosoms. If ever there was a city more welcoming, Zevran had yet to find it. Despite their apparent friendliness, though, he was coming to realise that his suspicions were really rather accurate. He had said to the boy that it would not be a simple case of speaking to the Seers, and of course there were indeed many hoops of which they needed to jump through.

"Just how long is this wait likely to be, my Templar friend?" Zevran asked the woman standing before him, her full plate looking rather uncomfortable on her in the heat.

The brunette shook her head slightly, wiping away the sweat from her brow. "Months, at least, I'm afraid."

Zevran's stomach dropped. "Months you say! Surely a case can be made for priorities, yes?"

"And just what is your priority, elf?"

"Why, a blood mage took control of my mind; I fear her spell still lingers."

The Templar shifted on her feet, regarding him sceptically. "And where is this blood mage now?"

"I do not know! That, my plated friend, is half the problem, no?"

She sighed. "Look, all I can do is put you on the waiting list."

"Truly, you can do nothing else?"

She looked over her shoulder, checking that no-one was listening to their little conversation. "Look, people here talk; community is important to us. I know of outsiders who, in the past, were bumped up that list by…helping others in the community."

"Help, you say?" he purred, cocking his hip out luridly.

The Templar blushed, her pale eyes flicking away, unable to hold his gaze. "I didn't mean…  _I_  don't need help, especially not like that."

"Are you sure? I'm really rather good, or so I've been told."

She cleared her throat. "There are notice boards around the city you can check, and you might try the taverns too; that seems to be where most people bitch about their problems these days."

He let out a long sigh. "Very well, I thank you for your time."

She nodded at him and he turned, walking away, back to the tavern where he had left the boy. He smiled slightly, shaking his head. All those times Neri and he had complained about Arietta helping everyone and their mothers during the Blight, and now here he was having to do very much the same thing to get what he wanted. There might be quicker ways, perhaps, but the last thing he wanted to do was to anger the Seers or the people of Dairsmuid, especially when they may be his only hope of reuniting with Neri. He sighed, pulling his hood over his head and continuing on his way.

* * *

 

Beltrán heard the door creak open and he blinked up at the silver haired elf as he walked into their shared room, removing his hood. He could tell Zevran was not pleased – the Crows  _had_  taught him that much at least; his eyes were hard, frustrated, and the smile he used in greeting did not reach them. Zevran had been out, leaving Beltrán bored and alone in the inn while he spoke with the Templars, seeing as they were the most likely people to know how to get an audience with the Seers. It was clear even to him that Zevran had not been pleased with the Templar's words.

"Does this mean we will be sneaking in to speak with them instead?" Beltrán asked as he watched Zevran sit down in the chair in front of the fire with a glass of Antivan brandy. Zevran's lips quirked upwards and he pushed the loose strands of hair away from his face.

"You will no doubt be pleased to hear that there may well be sneaking involved, just not to see the Seers."

Beltrán sat forward in his chair watching his tutor with a slight frown. "Then where are we sneaking into?"

"I have been advised that carrying out jobs here in the city may be our best chance to see the Seers sooner rather than later. What better jobs to take on than assassination contracts?"

Beltrán grinned at that. "When do we start?"

A smirk played about Zevran's lips as he tipped the rest of his Brandy into his mouth. He pulled out several parchments, dumping them down on the table between them.

"When you pick our first target, of course."


	62. The Only Thing That Matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh they're finally at Cumberland which means proposal time! Plus some other stuff, duh.

Neri stood on the forward bow with a wide grin on her face, as Cumberland finally came into view. The city was huge, and sprawled out as far as her eyes could see. It was easily three times the size of Denerim and so much bigger than Jader had been. The College of Magi's great Sun Dome caught her eye as the golden roof glistened in the morning sunshine. And behind the great dome, she could see the sun just beginning to touch the great snow-capped mountains. It was breath taking.

She was bubbling with excitement. After being cooped up with Max while he slept and then with Arietta after that, keeping them both free of seasickness, Neri was desperate to properly stretch her legs. She had tried on the ship's deck but she had bumped into several of the ship's crew and the Captain had banned her from running up and down his ship, complaining that she was worse than a squirrel on lyrium dust. So now she waited at the front of the ship, eager to explore the city before her, her hound at her side, his front legs up on the railing so he could watch the city draw closer too, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he panted happily. She scratched him behind his ears, smiling.

Arietta came to stand at their side, a relived smile stretching across her lips as she spotted the city; she lifted her head slightly to the wind, breathing in deeply, her eyes closed, as her messy hair fluttered in the wind around her face. Neri smiled at the sight, glad to see Arietta didn't look quite to miserable now as she had done earlier.

Arietta must have felt Neri's gaze because she glanced at her, a brow quirking in amusement. "What?"

"Nothing," Neri replied with a smile. "I'm just glad you're feeling better."

"Me too." They both turned back to watch as the city drew ever nearer, the wind buffeting them and sending their hair into a wild flurry. "I meant to ask you actually. What was that Antivan word you said, the long one?"

" _Precipitevolissimevolmente_ ," Neri repeated, smirking. "It means to say or do something hastily."

"How appropriate, given you were running off to run an errand at the time."

"I thought so."

"And that errand… What were you up to?" Arietta asked, eyes narrowing good humouredly.

"Not telling," Neri playfully replied as she brought her fingers across her lips, sealing them and then looked forward again, smiling smugly.

Max and Rafael joined them on the deck not much later, just as the ship entered Cumberland's harbour and began to weave its way through the maze of ships bobbing on the water. Both men had still barely spoken to one another and remained a quiet presence at Neri's side. She would need to cheer Max up considerably while keeping him away from Rafael so that the rogue could prepare for tonight. Her heart fluttered at the thought of him proposing; Max was going to be overjoyed.

As soon as the ship docked, Neri grabbed Max's hand and dragged him down the gangplank, grinning as Arietta shouted for them to wait for her and Rafael. Neri stared up at the buildings before her, the huge three-storey ones painted in a bright array of colours all along the harbour front. The city was bustling with life, and she struggled to take in the sights, sounds and smells around her. A man wiping his sweaty brow with his forearm, sighing heavily before he returned to sawing at the plank of wood on the bench in front of him; a man with a scar across his nose calling out in his thick accented baritone, holding up a fish that had to have been the length of Neri's arm, silver scales glinting in the bright sunshine; a woman fixing her elaborate bun in the shiny reflection of a store's coat of arms, smiling once she was content with it before she pushed the door to that store open and disappeared inside; a mother of three yelling at her children, smacking their hands away from the sweet stand.

Neri took it all in with a grin and then glanced up at Max who was also taking in the lively city around them. "Come on," she urged, dragging him up one of the main streets. They nearly knocked over several people in their haste and Neri could hear Arietta apologising behind her, attempting to speak Nevarran but sounding incredibly awkward in doing so as she fumbled over her words. They must have looked quite the sight, a lanky ginger mage, a frizzy-haired elf and a huge mabari warhound charging at speed up the hill like this, but Neri didn't give a fuck, she wanted a better look at the College. They reached the top of the hill, rich spices and incense filling the air around them, and Neri turned, looking down one of the side roads. There, looming over the entire city, was the golden Sun Dome of the Circle. The huge round roof shone in the sunlight, the gold tiles almost blindingly bright. Max whistled at the sight of it, and then Neri was dragging him forward again, making him laugh, with Rafael and Arietta at their heels, yelling at them to slow down.

It took longer than Neri would have thought to reach the College, slow as it was to find their way through the smaller alleys and the winding roads - all of which were filled with people, carts, and horses all in a hurry to get places. But finally all five of them reached the massive spiked gates of the Cumberland Circle. Templars were on patrol, their heavy armour rattling as they marched up and down.

"Maker's breath, Neri, I never thought you'd be  _this_  excited to go to a Circle," Arietta said breathlessly.

Neri smirked. "It's part of my nefarious plan to free  _all_  the Circles." Arietta paled at that and Neri laughed. "Kidding!"

"I should hope so, seeing as  _I_  am the one who did all of the work in freeing Ferelden's."

Neri scoffed, "I  _suggested_  it; that has to count for at least half of the work."

Arietta barked out a laugh, shaking her head. "I think I'll handle introductions," she said as she stepped forward toward the Templars who were now starting to shift on their feet a bit at all of them just gathered outside the Collage's gates.

"What are you going to say?" Neri asked.

They were all in their Warden armour, to keep Neri and Max safe from being called apostates; Arietta was in her brown and gold Commander set – the one she'd found at Vernie's Keep - Rafael his dark grey and blue rogue set with the black hood, Max was in his Warden robes - with the fluffy red boots that he had forced Herren and Wade to remake for him, fireproof and enchanted with Maker knows what else – and Neri was in her glistening purple Archdemon set. Max and Neri also had their staffs strapped to their backs. They did have cloaks strewn on over the top so that it wouldn't be obvious at a glance who they were to nosy passers-by though.

"You'll see," Arietta said with a slight smirk.

"I have no desire to visit a Circle, and someone needs to get the horses from the ferry," Rafael said. "I will find an inn for us to stay in tonight. I'll take your hound too so he doesn't cause an incident at the College." He gave Neri a slight nod as Barkspawn whined, and she smiled. Max looked like he wanted to object, but Neri grabbed his arm.

"This is going to be so exciting! Just think of all those books, Max."

He gave her a small smile, although it didn't reach his eyes as they lingered on Rafael, who was silently walking away from them all with Barkspawn plodding at his side. The red-haired human let out a heavy sigh and then turned back to face the gates. Arietta was already conversing with one of the Templars. Whatever she said worked, as the gates creaked open a moment later, and they were welcomed into the Circle.

With a Templar escort, they were walked down the white tiled path; Neri spent her time admiring the gardens and the series of flowerbeds beautifully arranged amongst the shortly cut grass. She could tell the massive building had once belonged to nobility; everything about it was designed to look grand and beautiful. But that didn't mean it wasn't still a prison; there were no trees, just huge greenspaces and low-lying flowers so it would be impossible for a mage to crawl across the gardens unnoticed. The walls were high and spiked; beautifully decorated, mind, but they were still there to keep people  _in_. She suspected that the lower floors would be for Templars too, leaving the upper levels for the mages so that they would find it harder to escape. She noticed the windows were barred, but at least they  _had_  windows, she supposed.

The massive ornate doors opened outward slowly, welcoming them in, and more Templars awaited them. Some eyed Neri and Maxime cautiously, obviously having noticed the staffs they each carried, but none of them made a move to capture them, presumably thanks to whatever Arietta had said. They were greeted by a balding Templar, who asked them to wait before they could be given a tour. Neri frowned slightly at that; what kind of Circle gave out free tours?

Neri leaned closer to Arietta. "What exactly did you tell them?"

"That I was a Warden from Ferelden, here on orders from the Commander of the Grey there to learn as much as possible about running a Circle safely and securely should the newly autonomous Circle in Ferelden ever need to return to such a state." She shrugged. "They seemed more than pleased to offer advice on such matters."

Breath left Neri's nose in a rush as she shook her head ruefully. "Of course they did."

"They asked me why I had brought two mages with me; I told them that it was important for mages to understand safety and security measures just as much as the Templars. I fear it means we'll need to listen to Templars ramble on at us for some time, however."

"You couldn't just tell them you were Queen and wanted to explore a bit, could you?"

"I told you, Neri, the last thing we need is people stopping us in the streets or inviting us to dinners, because that is what will happen if anybody here finds out a member of royalty is in town." Blue eyes flicked down to her, light and playful. "You  _do_  still want to get back to Anders sooner rather than later, right?"

"Of course!"

"Well then, best act interested in what the Templars have to say." Neri groaned, but Max looked over, smiling.

"It's like role-play, Neri; it'll be fun," he assured her. She remained sceptical, however. The only kind of role-play she enjoyed with Templars was the kind where she was able to tease them senseless while  _they_  were unable to stop her.

Just as she expected, the lower levels were indeed a Templar only area, except for a few corridors that lead to the Sun Dome and the Red Auditorium which were used as meeting places for all of the mages to convene in. The Templar leading them around the lower floors were meticulous, going over every possible safety measure they had included at the College. Some things were small, like not giving mages access to knives or other sharp objects; even things like hand held mirrors were banned because they could be smashed and used to cut a wrist or two. The upper floors were checked regularly for such items. Other things were more extravagant, like the magebane-laced door handles or silencing runes that lined the phylactery chamber and the store rooms in the basement levels.

Neri was reaching her limit on how much of this tripe she could listen to, and given the fact that they  _still_  hadn't even reached the mage floors, she was getting rather fed up with this insulting tour. But then a robed elf strolled down the corridor, heading toward them with a look of determination on her face. She was obviously a mage, given her high collared robes. Either she was mid escape or she was one of the few mages actually allowed in the lower levels. The Templar still blabbering on about the shatter-proof windows didn't even notice her approach until the elven woman was right behind him and clearing her throat. He startled badly, wheeling on her quickly.

"Knight Captain Jerrone," the woman said, her pale green eyes hard and cold, "I shall continue the tour in your stead."

The man stuttered a little, shaking his head. "Grand Enchanter…" he began, stunning their little group quite thoroughly. Neri's eyes roamed up the elf's body once again, surprised that this tiny woman was the Grand Enchanter of the entire Circle system.

"I am certain you have told them quite enough about how  _Templars_  keep mages safe." She said that final word with a considerable amount of venom and the Templar actually flinched. "It is past time for me to explain how mages can do such a thing too." Her tone was crisp and clipped, brokering no argument from the Templar. He nodded, bowed, and then took his leave. The Grand Enchanter looked at them all, a tight smile at her lips. "Grey Wardens, welcome. I am Fiona, Grand Enchanter of the Circle of Magi." They all dipped their heads in greeting. "I must apologise for not greeting you sooner; please follow me. I shall show you the mage quarters of the College."

"About bloody time," Neri muttered under her breath.

Fiona smiled slightly. "I can see you are as fond of the Templars as I am." She turned and they followed her down the corridor. "Fortunately, they mostly remain in the background here, allowing us to work and study in peace." They climbed a spiralling marble staircase, up to the mage quarters. Fiona snapped her fingers and the doors opened for them, revealing a lavish foyer with comfortable sofas and chairs, and a wall of floor to ceiling windows overlooking the gardens below. A few mages were sitting and reading in those chairs, and looked up at them all as they entered with curious eyes. The Grand Enchanter led them through the next set of doors and then glanced at them all. "Was there something in particular you wished to see first?" she asked.

"The library," Neri blurted, unable to hide the excitement from her voice; Fiona smiled, a small chuckle leaving her rosy lips.

"This way, then."

Fiona led them down several corridors, past many rooms including several studies, a chapel and a training room. She stopped in front of two large doors, looking at them briefly. "We do not allow magic in the library, of any kind. You will feel your magic wane as you enter; it is only temporary, and only in this room that such measures are used. There are many tomes here that cannot be found anywhere else in Thedas; to lose them to an accidental fire…" She did not finish the sentence; instead she pushed both doors open, revealing the library beyond.

Neri's mouth fell open as she stepped into the room, staring up at the massive bookshelves that curved around the circular room. She hadn't even realised the room  _was_  circular from outside, as vast and huge as it was. The bookcases were aligned in concentric circles, with gaps between each half so that you could walk through to the smallest centre ring. Each bookcase was easily three times her height and every shelf was filled to the brim with books. Neri walked through the aisles, turning around and staring up at the category labels she could see. They had everything ranging from magic theory to ancient cartography beliefs to extinct megafauna of Orlais to Tevinter erotica.

"Okay, this is incredible," Max gushed, his blue eyes flicking wildly across tomes as he scanned the spines, reading their titles. "Putain de merde! They have Aurélien Asselin's  _La Magie Est Partout!_ " He glanced at Fiona, his lip practically quivering in excitement. "Can I read it?"

Fiona chuckled, nodding. "Of course; tomes marked with white dots are not to be taken out of this room, however."

"I can read standing," Max said absentmindedly, as he gently slid the book from the shelf. "Asselin was the first person to propose that magic was once ingrained in all of us, even dwarves, before something cut off most of the population; I've always wanted to read it!"

"There are tables and chairs on the far side," Fiona pointed out, but Max's head was already lost in the book.

Arietta, who had remained quiet, simply smiled in awe at the sheer number of tomes packed into the large room. She had never seen anything quite like it - and she had seen the Royal Palace's impressive library, but it paled in comparison to this. She walked over to Fiona's side. "This is a truly remarkable collection; I don't suppose there are tomes on the Grey Wardens here as well?"

"Found them already!" Neri called from one of the inner rings of bookcases, which really wasn't very surprising considering the fact that Neri seemed to have a nose for sniffing out dusty old books. Fiona dipped her head and led Arietta to where Neri was standing, flicking through the pages of a very worn looking tome.

"I thought Ferelden's Commander of the Grey sent you to learn about the Circle?" Fiona said as her green eyes watched Arietta closely, "Is this the real reason she wished you to visit the College?" Fiona asked, pursing her lips slightly.

"Learning about the Circle and its safety measures was her priority," Arietta replied with a smile, "but it certainly doesn't hurt to have a look at what this impressive library has on the Order," she explained.

Fiona nodded, her pale eyes watching Neri with something akin to sympathy. "I fear if you are looking for answers on the taint, you shall be disappointed."

Neri looked up at the Grand Enchanter, frowning. "How do you know that's what we're looking for?"

"I suppose it could be the infertility, perhaps the nightmares or the hunger pangs, but no, the taint is always the more pressing issue, is it not?" Neri and Arietta shared a confused glance and Fiona smiled. "I was a Grey Warden,  _once_." That last word was spoken with more finality than Arietta had expected.

"You're not…" Neri frowned. "I can't sense you; you  _can't_  be a Warden."

Fiona sighed slightly. "Something happened to me while I was in the Deep Roads. Whatever it was, it cured me entirely. I have searched and searched for answers as to how such a thing occurred, but I have had no success."

Neri stared at the ground, eyes flickering as she clearly thought on what the Grand Enchanter had said. Arietta looked at Fiona, her eyes pleading. "If there is anything you can tell us that would help-"

Fiona shook her head, expression soft. "The Wardens ran endless tests on me, trying to understand it, but they failed; it was a fluke."

Arietta sighed and glanced at Neri's who jaw was set as she futilely continued to read through the tome.

"I apologise I cannot help you further," Fiona continued quietly. "Have you been Wardens long? You both sound Fereldan, but most of the Order were wiped out at Ostagar," she said frowning sadly.

"No, we haven't been Wardens long," Arietta replied, rubbing at her temples wearily. Knowing that this woman before them had been a Warden, had been  _cured_ , was painful; Arietta knew part of Neri's excitement for coming here was in hopes of finding some answers in these books and now there would likely be none.

"And the Commander entrusted you to come here on her behalf?" Fiona asked, her eyes narrowed a little. "She must be very trusting."

Arietta met the elf's gaze, chin held high. "She is."

"You know her well, then?" Fiona asked, her tone more casual now, like she was fishing for something.

"We have… worked together a fair amount," Arietta disclosed, wondering where the Grand Enchanter was going with this line of questioning.

"What is she like? I have heard good things, but it is hard to pick apart rumour from fact."

Arietta opened her mouth to answer but Neri jumped in, smirking. "She's a bit of a stick in the mud, always working." Arietta glared at her and Neri had to swallow down her laughter. "But she only works that hard because she cares so much and wants to do a good job." Arietta's glare melted away and she smiled slightly at Neri.

Fiona nodded thoughtfully. "And what of King Alistair? Does he remain with the Wardens too?"

That made Arietta frown slightly and she folded her arms across her chest, tilting her head slightly. "Why so curious, Grand Enchanter?"

Fiona's face shifted to one of slight surprise before she let out a small sigh. "I knew his father, Maric," she said wistfully. "I… merely wondered how his son was, if he was happy."

"He is," Arietta replied firmly, her head tilted slightly, curious as to how well Fiona knew Maric.

"That is… good," Fiona said, a relieved smile curving her lips. "I'm glad." She had a strange look in her eyes; one of regret, and Arietta couldn't help but think there was something more going on. She glanced at Neri, but the elf just shook her head, shrugging. "We should carry on with the tour," Fiona suggested, clearing her thoughts away with a shake of her head. She smiled at them both and then signalled for them to head out of the library. They called for Max and he reluctantly re-joined them, a big grin on his face as he began to gush about the book he'd been reading.

* * *

 

The rest of the tour had passed by in a blur of excitement; Max's poor mood had been well and truly buried under the volumes of squealing and geeking out he and Neri had done that afternoon. It was a wonder Arietta still had working eardrums, and Max was more than a little embarrassed that some of the highest pitched noises made had actually come from his lips and not Neri's. But they had said their goodbyes to the Grand Enchanter and to the College and were now at The Diamond Lass. It was probably Cumberland's most famous inn. They had these incredible crystal glasses that had runes carved into them to keep your drinks cool. Rafael and Max had been there once, a long time ago, just to try the drinks before they'd had to leave for the Deep Roads. Well, that wasn't entirely true; there had been enough time to sneak off for a bit of privacy too. Max wasn't sure how Rafael had managed to get them rooms at such a busy inn, but he was grateful he had.

They were all sitting outside in the inn's garden with the setting sun warming their skin and the rush of water at their side as the River Cumber neared the sea. Max had a chilled drink in front of him on the table and a half devoured cupcake in his hand; Neri's vanishing act in Jader had apparently been to pick up a batch of the delicious little cakes. She had even asked the store owner if he remembered Rafael and Maxime - and of course he had, because they had both been in there most days and he had even remembered which cupcakes they had both liked the best.

Each mouthful still tasted like love.

There was music playing too, typical Nevarran folk songs, and although Max couldn't understand the words, the song was upbeat and filled him with joy as people sang and danced along inside. The gardens themselves were relatively quiet, which Max found odd, given how lovely a night it was, but he wasn't about to start complaining. His friends were laughing and sharing stories as the sun set behind them, slowly turning the sky a deep red. And best of all, Rafael had moved closer to Max, his head coming to rest on Max's shoulder, their hands entwined under the table. They hadn't spoken much about Percy, but it was such a relief just to feel those warm hands again, to feel Raf's soft hair against his neck, to know that Max hadn't lost Rafael, that he was still at his side, still part of his life.

Rafael shifted, lifting his head slightly, grey eyes dark as they stared up at him. Max shivered. "Wanna get out of here?" he asked, that gravelly voice of his thick with an emotion Max couldn't even name, a mix of playfulness, wistfulness and hopefulness all rolled into one sexy sounding invitation. Max nodded, smiling, and followed Rafael up from their seats.

They walked hand in hand along the river's bank, following the river upstream. A warm breeze rustled the trees around them and brought half a dozen different smells of cooking to them, making him inhale deeply and smile contentedly.

"I wanted to talk about what happened," Raf began quietly, his gaze focused ahead of them, "about Percy," he clarified.

Max squeezed Rafael's hand reassuringly, shaking his head slightly. "You don't have to."

Raf looked at him, black brows lowered in a slight frown. "Yes, I do." He looked forward again. "I can see the doubt and worry in your eyes, Max, and I need you to know that, although seeing Percy again was hard, it hasn't changed how I feel about you. If anything it just solidified my feelings for you. I kept things from Percy; maybe it was because I didn't love him as much as I have come to love you or maybe it was just because I wasn't ready to move on from Layla. I don't know."

Max realised they had walked onto a bridge and he glanced around, recognising it as the very same bridge they had snuck off to the last time they had been in Cumberland together. He glanced back at the rogue in front of him, realising how on edge he suddenly looked, and Max's heart began to flutter wildly in his chest.

Rafael ran his hands over the stone wall, looking down at the rushing water below them, the sun's reflection turning the rippling water a vibrant orangey red. "I don't keep anything from you, Max; don't want to. I… I felt guilty about Percy, not because I had to use him to protect you, had to kill him to save you - it's because, if I had the choice, I'd hurt him all over again just to meet you, to be with you, to come to love you." He looked up at him, his dark hair hiding his eyes slightly from view, but Max's chest still tightened. "There is  _nothing_  I wouldn't do for you," Raf swore, and Max knew it to be true.

Rafael took a shaky breath and looked up at him properly, shaking his hair away from his face so he could hold Max's gaze. Max's throat went dry at the sight of those piercing grey eyes boring into him. "I would cease to exist if I lost you." Rafael swallowed thickly. "I want you with me, always." He smiled tearfully and Max's heart lurched in his chest. "Marry me?" Rafael asked as he pulled out a silver band with a dark blue gem in the centre, the same kind of blue as Max's eyes.

Max was nodding as blabbered squeals and words fell from his lips. His vision blurred with tears but he could see Rafael grin; it was the brightest and happiest grin he had ever seen on his lover's face, and Max pulled the other man into a hug, saying yes over and over as he began to sob tears of joy. Rafael lifted him up and spun him around as his deep laughter filled the evening air; Max pulled back enough to kiss him hard on the lips, tasting their tears and those cupcakes of love.

Rafael plonked him back down on the ground, parting only to put the ring on Max's finger before kissing him once more. Max clung to him as their kiss grew desperate, neither of them able to get enough of each other. Downriver, Max could hear cheers and whistles and he started to laugh, recognising those calls as Neri and Arietta;  _of course_  they'd known. He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against' Rafael's, breathless and dizzy with happiness.

"I love you," he whispered.

"And I you," Rafael replied, his voice thick and husky, his eyes dark with adoration.

Max grinned. "I don't want to wait. I want to marry you tonight," he said in a rush.

Rafael smirked. "I hoped you might say that…"

He took Max's hand and led him back to The Diamond Lass where Neri and Arietta were waiting, grinning and jumping for joy. The girls greeted them both with hugs and congratulations, all of them giddy.

"We don't want to wait," Rafael said, smiling broadly as he glanced at Arietta. "I figure you have enough authority to do the honours."

Arietta blushed, smiling. "It would be my pleasure to." The Commander glanced at Neri, "If you're willing to be witness, that is."

Neri grinned full force, nodding eagerly. "As if I'd miss this!"

Rafael and Max stood facing one another, their hands clasped together and huge smiles on both of their faces. Arietta stood in front of them, glancing at them warmly. "I'll keep this quick." She put her hands over both of theirs and looked to Rafael. "Do you, Rafael Larue, take Maxime Dupond to be yours and always yours for as long as you both shall live?"

Rafael breathed in deeply, nodding. "I do," he said with a smile cracking across his lips.

Arietta turned to Max and opened her mouth-

"I do," he blurted, making her chuckle.

"I have to say it," she laughed. "Do you Maxime-"

"I do, I do, I do." Oh Maker he did. He couldn't believe this was happening. Why hadn't  _he_  proposed? He'd wanted this for so long. He never thought Rafael would be the one to ask! He was practically jumping for joy as he stared at Rafael, grinning. Rafael was smirking back, his hair blowing slightly in the light breeze as the setting sun warmed his face. He looked breath-taking - he always did; Max was pretty sure he'd never stop thinking that.

He could see Arietta shake her head out of the corner of his eye, a big smile on her face too. "- take Rafael Larue to be yours and always yours for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Max answered, his voice breaking.

"Then I pronounce you partners for life. Now you may-"

"Snog each other's brains out!" Neri interrupted with a laugh.

Max and Rafael both grinned and wasted no time leaning in to one another to press their lips together. It was a kiss so heavy with love, Max felt like his heart would pop. Rafael's hand cupped his jaw, fingers lost in Max's beard, and his own hands tangled in Raf's messy curls, pulling him closer.

At some point Neri, Barkspawn and Arietta must have slipped away, because when they broke the kiss, panting and sweating, both of the girls were gone, leaving them alone in the garden as the sun finally disappeared from view.

"Come," Rafael said, eyes dark. "I want to make this official," he said as he pulled Max toward the inn's doors.

"Oh I plan on being  _very_  thorough, husband," Max purred back, and Rafael flashed him a wicked grin that made Max's heart lurch. He couldn't recall ever being this completely overwhelmed with happiness. He was an idiot for ever doubting that they were okay. They would always be okay, because just like Rafael, there was nothing Max wouldn't do to keep  _him_  safe either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *squealing* fluffy goodnesssss. Plus Fiona. She really ought to just tell Alistair, you know? SO frustrating. And I pretty much figured that military people with enough clout can probably marry people so... Arietta is good for it. Not that I really care if it's not a thing. ;p 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts! I am dying to know what you think.


	63. The Art Of Seduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really unsure on this one. Feel very.. meh about it. Regardless, thanks to Shadow and Waffles for helping me plan this one and stuff. <3 And as always, huge thanks to ElyssaCousland for the fab beta.

Zevran sighed heavily, shaking his head in frustration. "Again!" he called out, not even bothering to look at the boy trying his best to sneak up on him.

"Oh, come on! I was really quiet that time," Beltrán groused petulantly, the whine in his voice betraying his age.  _So young_ , Zevran thought,  _but that is how the Crows liked them_. He turned to face the boy who was looking at him through a thick fringe of black hair, his hazel eyes narrowed accusingly. "Did you really hear me?" he asked, pouting.

"Your footwork is much improved, my little apprentice," Zevran admitted. "Your breathing, however, is not."

The kid folded his arms across his chest, his chin lifting indignantly "What am I supposed to do, stop breathing?"

Zevran laughed loudly and slapped the boy on the shoulder. "Of course not! That would end disastrously, no?" He leaned in closer. "But you must calm yourself," he said as he put his hand over the boy's chest, feeling his hammering heart beneath. "This is far too fast, and your breath too hard."

He watched Beltrán frown with a small smile. "And just how do I tell my heart to stop beating so fast?"

"Practice," Zevran replied. "We will never catch this master thief of ours with you sounding very much like an out of breath opium addict."

"I do  _not_  sound like… like whatever that is!"

Zevran chuckled. "Surely you are not contesting your very wise and very experienced tutor in this matter?" he said, brow arched playfully. The boy sighed, shoulders slumping. Zevran smiled. " _Again_ ," he said with a clap of his hands.

In truth, the boy wasn't bad at all; much better at stealth than Zevran had been at his age, but he wasn't going to tell the boy that anytime soon. Pushing him now might well save his life later, after all,  _especially_  against their next target. She was said to be the best thief in the East, a seductive temptress who used her charm and good looks to steal valuables right out from under the noses of besotted men.

Naturally, it was a man who had hired Zevran to kill the woman and retrieve some precious diamond of his. It was all very cliché, really. But the pay was good, and Zevran really was rather curious about this woman. It was said that she changed her accent, her hair, even her eyes after each job so as not to be recognised; a most impressive feat. Usually such a thing would have worked as the men she targeted were often inebriated; it was only during her most recent job that one of the her targets' servants had witnessed the entire thing, and then followed her all the way back to a tavern. Remarkable really, how easy it was for servants and slaves to move about without a soul noticing their presence.

The servant had returned to his employer and had been rewarded greatly, and of course the employer had then hired Zevran to retrieve his stolen goods. Zevran would not dare attempt such a feat without first knowing the boy was ready, however.

Beltrán had done well on previous contracts; killing, it seemed, he did not have a problem with. It was the lead up and everything in between that he lacked... finesse in. Lucky for him, he had Zevran. Knowing where the thief enjoyed spending her evenings - the ones when she wasn't out stealing from foolish men - made things much easier. Now they simply had to seduce her in hopes she would take them back to her hideout and then steal from the master thief. Easy. Zevran would obviously be doing the seducing - the boy was terrible at that too - but that of course meant that it would be up to Bel to creep around her home while Zev kept her  _very_  distracted. Hence the lessons in stealth this fine evening.

The kid had managed to sneak up on him quite far this time while Zevran was lost in his thoughts; his mistake, however, was holding his breath before lunging. Zevran easily sidestepped him, and the kid fell flat on his face on the hard ground.

"Better," Zevran admitted, trying to keep the smile from his lips as the kid rolled over and levelled a glare at him. "Back on your feet, and no holding your breath before attacking this time. It is as good as shouting in the man's ear that you are here to slit his throat."

The boy got back to his feet, shaking his head as he cursed under his breath.

Zevran tsk-ed, "Chop chop."

**…**

Beltrán took another sip from the strong whisky he had in his hand. He hated the taste; it burned his throat and made him choke but Zevran had simply told him to drink it and ' _watch and learn'_. The elf was meandering his way slowly through the crowds in the tavern, making his way over to their target. The thief sat in the darkened corner, her keen eyes watching the room. She was beautiful, with long brown hair cascading all the way down to her arse - or at least, Beltrán assumed it went that far, it sure looked like it would. Her skin was a dark mocha, her eyes a bright green. It was her lips that Beltrán couldn't stop staring at, however; the way she bit down on them, chewing ever so slightly as she eyed the men in the room, sent shivers down his spine and made his dick throb at the sight.

He'd never been with a woman before. He had grown up outside of Antiva City in a small village where there weren't many other children his age. His parents had been in debt and they had sold him, their only son, in order to pay their debt off. He had only been thirteen at the time, and he'd been too full of hate to behave as a little servant boy for the man he had been sold to, so his employer had soon sold him to the Crows instead. At least with them he had an outlet for his anger. But they never cared. That's where Zevran was different - or at least, that's where he believed the elf to be different. Sure, Zevran hid his feelings well, but Bel had seen the warmth in his eyes and the smiles pulling at his lips. Beltrán wasn't foolish enough to think that Zevran could replace parents that had sold him, or Crows that never cared for him, but for the first time since he was thirteen, Beltrán was happy.

Zevran finally reached the thief; he cocked his hip out in what Beltrán assumed was supposed to be an alluring display. The thief raked her eyes up him, and then quirked a brow slightly. The elf gave her a sultry smile.

"I couldn't help but notice you were sitting alone this fine eve-"

"Intentionally," she cut in curtly. Zevran blinked at that, his lips slamming shut, and Beltrán had to stifle a laugh.  _What was it he was supposed to be learning from this? How to fail spectacularly?_  The thief's eyes immediately snapped to him; apparently he hadn't done as good of a job at hiding his laughter as he had thought. Beltrán immediately looked away from those piercing green eyes and downed the rest of his drink. He choked, coughing violently as the damned drink seared his throat and burned his stomach.

There was suddenly a hand rubbing his back and hot breath against his ear. "You should take things more slowly," a silky chocolate voice purred in his ear. He stared up at the thief, wide eyed, watching as her pupils dilated just inches from his own. "Slow and sensual is much better than rough and fast, don't you think?" she asked, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Beltrán stared at them, feeling his mouth go dry even as his heart tried to leap out of his chest. "You must savour such a drink, taste the flavours," she purred, her lips lifting into a smile. "Come, I'll buy you another."

He swallowed, nodding as she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bar. He glanced back at Zevran over his shoulder, his eyes wide. Zevran was staring back, shocked, and he shrugged, unhelpfully, clearly just as baffled as Beltrán was.

Bel turned back around just as the thief took hold of another glass.

"Try this," she whispered, voice husky, before tipping all of the glasses' contents into her mouth. He was about to ask how he could try it when she had just drank it all, when she leaned in and kissed him. Her hands came up to cup the sides of his face, and he instinctively opened his mouth to her. The rich warm liquid flowed over his lips and into his mouth, and he moaned as her tongue slipped in after it, tasting as it explored his mouth. He swallowed the drink, slowly, as he began to kiss her back, his tongue sliding over hers.

It was then that a hand clapped down on his shoulder and hauled him back away from that hot mouth. Beltrán turned and glared at Zevran.

"I think that is quite enough for one night, my young friend," Zevran said, laughing slightly as he threw the thief an apologetic smile.

"Surely that is for the boy to decide?" she asked, eyes narrowed slightly.

Beltrán nodded in agreement.

"Sadly, no; I am responsible for him and it is past time we were on our way," Zevran said, "Perhaps some other night."

The thief looked irritated but gave them a small nod. "I will be here again in three night's time. You can buy  _me_  a drink then," she said as she looked directly at Beltrán and ignored Zevran. The elf nodded and smiled at her before he began dragging Beltrán toward the door.

"It was nice meeting you!" Beltrán called out to her with a grin, and the thief smiled back.

Zevran dragged him all the way down the street before finally letting him go. "You are a virgin, yes?" he suddenly asked and Beltrán sputtered, feeling a blush creep up to his face. Zevran sighed. "I thought as much." He shook his head. "Brasca, three nights to teach you all you will need to know… ah, there is only one thing for it." He started dragging him again, and Beltrán frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

"You will need to learn how to pleasure a woman."

"Wh-what?"

Zevran stopped to look at him, face softening. "How to put this kindly? I need you to last longer than three seconds inside of her if I am to have any chance at finding this diamond; I am good, but not  _that_  good, my young friend."

"So what are you going to do?"

Zevran smirked, his eyes gleaming. "Where would the fun be in ruining such a surprise?"

**…**

The boy, as it turned out, blushed brighter than anyone Zevran had ever met - more so than even Alistair. As soon as Bel had seen the whorehouse's sign hanging above the door, he had gone white as a sheet, but the colour had returned full force when Zevran had handed over a bag of coin to the whores with a grin.

" _Ah my lovely ladies, this here virgin is in need of a proper breaking in._ " He had grabbed the kid by the shoulders and shoved him forward into their waiting arms. _"There is no need to be gentle with this one, si?"_

Zevran chuckled as the kid stared wide-eyed at the seven women now stalking toward him, raking their eyes up his body as they did so.

"He's a pretty one," a brunette with marvellous tits purred as she dragged her finger across Bel's shoulders.

"Look at all of this hair!" a blonde squealed, giggling in delight. "At least we'll have something to hold onto, girls."

Beltrán gulped and Zevran laughed heartily as he headed to the bar. He ordered a drink and took a seat in full view of the whores and the kid. Ah, but this would be amusing; what an excellent use of his coin. Honestly, the boy was how old? Sixteen? Eighteen? It mattered not, he was a man grown and yet had never truly become a man, and what a way to become one, at the hands of seven of Rivain's finest whores.

He watched with a grin as one of the girls – one with the most mesmerising tattoos Zevran had ever seen covering her breasts and snaking down to her deliciously hairless pussy – grabbed a hold of the boy's shirt and ripped it clean open, sending the buttons skittering across the wooden floorboards. Beltrán stared down at his now bared chest, astonished, before looking back up at the tattooed girl, mouth open in surprise. The whore, naturally, didn't waste the opportunity; she leant in and kissed the boy passionately, stealing his breath away. The other girls began to remove the rest of the boy's clothing, tugging down his trousers and pulling off his boots.

Beltrán appeared to have fairly good instincts, at least, which was a great relief; he had threaded one hand into the tattooed girl's hair, fisting the dark strands, making the girl moan, her lips pulling into a smirk while his other cupped the big breasted girl's bosom. He had girls kissing at his neck and the small of his back; they were all over him, surrounding him, running their hands and mouths over every morsel of bare skin.

Zevran felt a pang of jealousy cut through his chest at the sight; it had been so long since he had shared a bed with anyone. Although, there was only one person he really wanted - but she was fucking another man, and not just any man, either, but her first love. Zev came in his hand night after night, his body left aching for her, cold and desperate for the warmth of her hot wet cunt; all the while, she made love to Anders. He longed to see her again, hated that he had told her he would not be returning to her, hated that he couldn't tell her why, that she wouldn't  _remember_.

It helped to have these jobs to occupy his mind with, but in moments like these… he sighed and swallowed down the rest of his drink. There was no point him remaining miserable all for some needless sense of fidelity to Neri. He would fuck one of these whores, he would teach the kid everything he knew about seduction and then they would catch this thief and put them one step closer to seeing the Seers. One step closer to Neri.

Then the blood mage would die. He would kill her himself.

He whistled for one of the whores to join him instead as they began leading Beltrán up the stairs. The tattooed girl came over to him, grinning as her hips rocked seductively. Yes, she'd do nicely.

**...**

Bel stared up at the whorehouse's ceiling with a massive grin on his face. The Crows had beaten it into him that his heart and his dick were the two things most likely to get him killed. His heart for showing sympathy, or Maker forbid, falling in love, and his dick for getting easily seduced. He had shielded his heart long ago from showing or feeling love, but now he could finally use his dick as a weapon, sort of - at least, he knew how and where to use it now.

He stared at the two whores kissing at the end of the bed while a few of the others snoozed next to him with all of their curves and soft skin pressed up against him, warming his entire body. He was already getting hard again, eager for the feel of their mouths and pussies once more. If he hadn't been certain before about Zevran being the best tutor he'd ever had, he was more than certain of it now. This had been the best night of his life and he still had three more days to practice with them all. Then he'd get to fuck the thief! Shit, he really did need to practice more if he was going to stand a chance with her.

"Let's go again," he said with a grin. The girls lifted their heads, their eyes darkening as their smiles widened.

"Anything for you, sweetie," the girl with the huge tits purred before she took his lips with hers.

**…**

Zevran chuckled nervously. "Aha, I assure you, this never happens."

The tattooed girl, Madeline, looked up at him sympathetically where she knelt on the ground in front of his flaccid cock. "Take your time; you've got the coin for it."

He sighed roughly and returned to stroking himself more forcefully. Never had his cock failed him like this. He was able to keep up with a Grey Warden, for Andraste's sakes. So why could he not get hard for this beauty before him? She stared up at him with pouty lips, desperate to put her mouth back on him. He sat down on the bed with a groan as he continued to touch himself, but there was nothing there, no response at all, not even a twitch. He let out a hissed curse, now more frustrated than he had been before buying the whore.

She ran her hands up his legs, her soft fingers gently caressing him. "Shh, just relax." She kissed his knee, running her tongue over it. "You got a lot on your mind? That's usually what stops it."

He let out a bitter little chuckle at her interesting choice of words. "You could say that."

"You wanna talk about it?"

He smiled. "No offence, my dear, but it is all rather complicated." He ceased his movements and hung his head. "It may be better to quit while we are ahead, yes? You may as well go join the boy; he will need as much experience as possible."

She looked at him, uncertain, but then nodded and got back to her feet. "Room's yours for the rest of the night. If your… situation changes, feel free to ask for me again." She smiled and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Zevran flopped back onto the bed with a heavy sigh. Apparently he was unable to fuck anyone at all while away from Neri, or perhaps with his mind such a jumbled mess. It could even be the blood mage fucking with him, torturing him, he supposed. He rubbed his face, groaning as he tried to recall happier, less complicated times with Neri back at the palace. Of the time they invited every employee at the Pearl to the palace to see how many people Neri could pleasure, of their morning walks by the sea and the long nights spent talking and drinking by the fire. Of the times at the start of their relationship where she would freeze up under his touch, remembering Albert's instead; of the cuddles and whispered words he had soothed her with afterwards as he tried to make her relax again, feeling guilty for having pushed her too far. Of the smile she would always give him when she got past yet another hurdle. Of the cheeky grins that lit her face whenever her eyes met his, and the excitement in her voice the day he had started teaching her Antivan; of the way the words had rolled off of her tongue. His cock twitched slightly and he chuckled ruefully; apparently his hand and thoughts of Neri would have to suffice until he could have the real thing again.

**…**

Beltrán took a nervous gulp of his drink. The thief wasn't here yet but damn it if he wasn't nervous. He felt better about women and womanly… things, thanks to his time spent at the whorehouse, but this woman, this thief was something else entirely and his palms started sweating at just the thought of her touching him again. Brasca, this was absurd; their entire plan rested entirely on Beltrán's very narrow shoulders. He needed to keep her distracted long enough for Zevran to search her hideout for the diamond. He wasn't sure he would be able to do that. Their last resort was simply going to be knocking her out, but what if his palms were too sweaty to do even that? He groaned, rubbing at his face.

It was as he looked up that he saw her walk in through the door; his heart stuttered before picking up its pace, hammering in his chest. He swallowed down his fear, trying to cast her a self-assured and welcoming smile; he was pretty sure he'd just managed to make a weird face at her instead though. She smiled back and sauntered straight toward him. He suddenly floundered, his mind going black in the face of such a beautiful woman coming to a stop just a few inches away from him. The only thing that came to mind was some  _terrible_  pick up line he had heard years ago.  _Don't say it._ Don't _say it._

"You must be one hell of a thief, because you stole my heart from across the room," he blurted, immediately regretting it. The thief's green eyes narrowed for a split second before she burst out laughing, lifting her hand to rest it on his shoulder as she squeezed affectionately.

"Oh, sweet boy!" she purred, "We are going to have such fun tonight."

"We are?" he asked, his voice small.

She grinned. "Oh yes."

He swallowed, looking down at his shoes and away from her piercing eyes. "Can I buy you a drink?" he asked, looking up at her again.

"No need, I only came here for you." She grabbed a hold of his clammy hand and dragged him toward the door. He could definitely get used to being dragged about by beautiful women. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, confirming that Zevran was following silently in the shadows, before he focused back on the thief in front of him and that perfectly plump arse of hers. He was right, too: her hair did reach it.

**…**

Naturally, Zevran picked the lock without difficulty. He slipped inside, letting the door shut gently behind him. In the room to his right, he could hear the thief and his little apprentice kissing rather heatedly. He could picture them perfectly: they would be on a sofa, she would be leaning over the boy, running her hands over him as her tongue plunged into his mouth. His hands would find her hair, mussing it quite spectacularly. He shook his head, clearing such fanciful thoughts; he had a job to do, after all, one that would bring him one step closer to Neri's warm embrace. He hoped the kid's lessons at the whorehouse had been enough to make him last, but he wouldn't be at all surprised if the boy still came in his pants from a single touch.

Zevran checked the room to the left first, looking quickly through all of the obvious places, and then through the less obvious. Either he was getting sloppy, or there truly were no secret compartments to be found - odd for a master thief to have none at all. In truth, the entire apartment seemed rather sparse; even if she never stayed in one place for very long, he would expect to see little pieces of her shine through, but there was none of that, no personal possessions whatsoever. The apartment was dirtier than he had expected, too, with dust forming along the shelves; it seemed unused. His gut tightened slightly, worried that this was not in fact her true hideout. If that was the case, then it was unlikely that he would find the diamond here at all and this entire charade would end up dragging on for quite some time until she finally revealed her true home. The thought made him sigh; he needed this job done quickly, as their employer was an impatient man and likely to hire more people to hunt this thief down. Zevran was certain that such a thing would only serve to chase her off before anyone could succeed in getting the stone back.

Frustrated, he moved onto the next room, chancing a quick peek at the couple - sprawled out on the sofa, as he had expected. That vixen was kissing her way down the boy's chest, watching as Bel's head lolled back, his eyes closed in surrender.  _At least he is having fun_ , the elf thought wryly. Zevran moved into the next room.

"Brasca," he cursed under his breath as he finished checking the thief's bed chambers. Nothing, there was nothing here, he was sure of it. He usually had a keen eye for this sort of thing, and a diamond of that size should not be an easy thing to hide. He shook his head, swallowing down his annoyance.

"Come, let us go to the bedroom, pet," the thief suddenly muttered out a little breathlessly. Zevran darted across the corridor and into the room opposite just before the pair appeared and headed into the bed chamber. Beltrán's eyes were half-lidded, black with lust as he happily followed after her, seeming to have forgotten about Zevran's presence and their entire reason for being here. Zevran sighed roughly as he headed into the freshly vacated room.

He closed his eyes, his breath leaving his nose in a rush. Nothing.  _Again_. This definitely was not her usual hideout, he was certain of that now. Which meant Beltrán would need to  _continue_  to seduce her, if he even got the chance to; they still had to get through the evening without him completely disappointing the thief.

"Looking for this?" a womanly voice suddenly droned from the doorway.

The thief was there, the diamond glistening in her hand, and Zevran's eyes widened slightly at the sight, surprised both by the fact that the diamond was actually not at all impressive, as small and uneven as it was, and the fact that she had  _another_  glistening object held in her other hand, one that was keeping his attention rather more fully. She had the boy held flush against her, a knife at his throat. Beltrán looked distinctly uncomfortable; his hard cock pressing against his tight leathers probably didn't help matters much.

"I  _knew_  you were after the diamond," she said with a rueful smile. "Disappointing, isn't it?"

"A little, yes," Zevran admitted, trying to sound casual. "It's why I usually prefer gold myself," he replied.

She chuckled, "Yes, I've heard how much that pig of a man is paying you to retrieve this from me. Ridiculous what a man's pride will push him to do, isn't it? I can't imagine there's any other reason he would want this ugly lump of rock back."

"Perhaps it has sentimental value," he suggested as he tried to think how best to get himself and Beltrán out of this tricky situation.

"Mmm, he did mention something about that while he was showing the useless thing off to me. Apparently it belongs to his wife; not that that means much though when he treats her like dirt. This is his apartment, you know?" Zevran must have blinked in surprise because she chuckled, "Really? Were you too busy hunting for the rock to notice the men's cologne lying around or the blonde hair on the pillow? You're getting sloppy, Crow." She smiled. "He brings his mistresses here. He probably would have brought me here too, eventually, had I not reacted poorly to him putting his hands on me. Just because  _these_  are out," she said as she pushed her breasts out, "does not mean you can just  _grab_  them," she scoffed. "He thought he could take whatever he wanted from me, so I did the same back. Got a problem with that?"

"Our employer does," Beltrán muttered through his teeth.

She chuckled. "I would have paid good money to see his face when he realised it was gone," she confessed with a sigh.

"Ah, then perhaps I can simply tell you how angry he looked when he hired us, in return for the diamond and you letting my friend go?" he asked hopefully with a charming smile. "No need to resort to violence, my dear; I thought master thieves were better than that."

"Oh, you're playing the pride card! That's almost as cute as you trying to seduce me the other night," she snorted. "You can have the diamond, Zevran, free of charge," she said as she pulled the knife away from Beltrán's throat and then tossed the stone at Zevran. He managed to catch it, despite his shock and surprise. "I've proved my point to the bastard and that rock isn't worth the trouble of keeping it. But you look so confused! You're not used to being outplayed, are you? And in front of your apprentice too! How embarrassing," she laughed. "Bela will laugh so hard when she hears this; you'll never hear the end of it."

He shook his head, blinking. " _Isabela_!?"

"Yes," the thief purred. "She's told me  _a lot_  about you. Thanks for dealing with her prick of a husband, by the way."

"It…was my pleasure," he said, still trying to wrap his head around the current situation.

She started to grin again. "She's never mentioned me, has she?"

"The gorgeous master thief who seduces and tricks men before stealing from them, only to return said item to the men sent to retrieve it without so much of a fight? No, no she has not."

She laughed. "Well… good, I suppose, although I never expected Isabela to hold her tongue. I'll owe her some coin for losing that bet, I suspect." She shrugged a shoulder. "I am Sofía. Bela and I used to raid together until I decided I wanted more honest work," she said with an amused smile. "I know how that sounds, by the way – but I truly only do steal from rich assholes that deserve it. And Bela, well, she loved the open sea too much to leave it. We team up now and again on jobs, but I like my anonymity too much to do such things often; Bela has a habit of attracting… unwanted attention."

Zevran snorted. "That, I  _have_  noticed."

She grinned. "Really though, I've heard you're trying to gain an audience with the Seers. Not always an easy thing for outsiders. I might be able to help you a bit… I know some of the mages at the Tower. No promises though."

He frowned. "You would help us, just like that?"

"Well, sure, why not? Bela trusts you and if you can trust me – trust that the diamond I gave you is really the one your employer wants back – then I don't see any reason for us not to be able to help each other out."

"What is it we can help you with, exactly?"

"Yeah, what do you want?" Bel asked, eyes narrowed.

She smiled. "That prick hired you to kill me, right?"

"Mm," Zevran said. "I believe his words were, cut that bitch's hands off, and smother her with them. So, yes."

Sofía laughed loudly. "That sounds  _just_  like him. Then I am going to need your help to fake my death. That should shut the old fuck up and give me back my freedom. So, do we have a deal?"

"What do I get out of this?" Bel whined as he rubbed at the small nick on his neck from her blade. Her piercing green eyes sparkled as her gaze landed on him.

"I brought you to this apartment for a reason," she purred. "I want to make a right mess of it so that the next time he has some woman here to fuck, she'll run away screaming instead," she laughed. "But sex first. I wouldn't want all those lessons at the whorehouse to go to waste," she said with a wink. Zevran had not even realised she had followed them. Perhaps he really was getting sloppy - or she was just that good. "Joining us, Zev?" she asked.

He laughed. "And take away from my apprentice's big night? No, no. Go ahead, enjoy."

She cocked a brow at him but then shrugged. "Well… door's open. If you aren't planning on joining us, then you could at least start planning how to fake my death." She grinned and then grabbed the kid's hand. "Come on - I'm going to show you how real women fuck, not that fake shit the whores showed you."

It was not how he had expected this night to go, but as Zevran tossed the diamond into the air and caught it again, he was smiling.  _One step closer._


	64. Weisshaupt: part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter of the two parts. The biggie comes next week. Expect a whole load of revelations and surprises with that one. ;)

The heat had finally been too much for Barkspawn and their Fereldan mounts to handle. They had left them all at a stable in the pretty riverside village of Caimen Brea in Northern Nevarra. There, they had borrowed four new mounts in return. Their new horses were much better suited to the hotter deserts that they had since traversed. Neri's stallion, Viento, was tall and lithe, almost all legs, with a shiny red coat and a mane of long black hair. He was the most graceful creature Neri had ever seen and he was a pleasure to ride - although that wasn't really saying much, seeing as riding a bucking bronto would still be more enjoyable than riding Terrence.

It had been odd, after following the massive Minanter River north for much of their journey, to see it as little more than a trickling stream at that village. Neri had paddled in it, letting the cool water wash over her ankles with an awestruck smile, knowing that this tiny stream would become Thedas' biggest river, stretching across half the world before it finally reached the sea. But that little village was two weeks travel behind them now, and they hadn't seen any other people or settlements since. All that was left between them and Weisshaupt was desert, and Neri was bloody sick of it. The rocky sands were horrible to camp in, especially with the frequent sandstorms that seemed to occur out here. Thankfully, the desert had almost as much rock as it did sand with plenty of outcroppings, hills, and caves in which they had frequently found shelter. Despite that, however, Neri still had sand in places she really didn't want sand.

It was the sweltering heat during the day and the freezing cold nights that followed that had been the most miserable part of the desert though. Between Max and Neri, they had worked out a pretty good system which made things somewhat bearable, but it was damned exhausting. If they hadn't found a cave or a sheltered spot to camp that night, Neri would put up a barrier around them and keep it up until she was too tired to carry it on, and Max would light a fire to keep them warm. During the hot rides by day, Max would cast a cool breeze around them, and if Neri had enough strength, she would cast more barriers to keep the worst of the sandy gales and burning sun off of them. That hadn't stopped Max or Neri or even Arietta from burning though; all three of them were red and sweaty. Only Rafael with his darker skin seemed to avoid burning too badly, lucky bastard. The fact that they would need to trek  _back_  through this Maker forsaken desert to go home made things so much worse.

And naturally, with them sleeping so close together, Max and Rafael were now as deprived of sex as Neri and Arietta were, and it had started to show, with Rafael getting frustrated more easily at everything and with Max whining almost non-stop. Some nights Neri felt like just telling them to fuck in front of her; it wasn't like she hadn't seen it all before anyway, but she doubted Arietta would appreciate that.

It was difficult though, being away from those you loved; Neri missed Anders and Zev desperately, and with the endless riding, often silently, through the sandy desert, her mind had constantly wandered to thoughts of them. It had been over a month since she had seen Anders, and it had been much longer than that since she had last seen Zev, or remembered seeing Zev, she supposed. She was almost certain he had been there that night; sometimes she was sure she could remember his scent or hear his voice when she focused hard on recalling details of that night. It was beyond frustrating, and more than once she had pushed too far and ended up groaning in pain as her nose bled and head pounded. It was stupid to keep trying, she knew, but she was stubborn and this was  _Zevran_ ; if she could recall something, anything from that night that might shed light on what happened, then it was worth the headaches and nosebleeds. So far, however, she'd had little luck remembering anything of substance, just an overwhelming sense that she  _knew_  the blood mage responsible, but Neri didn't know many blood mages so that only confused her more.

She wiped her forehead as they all came around the corner of the large jagged rock and the crumbling path they had been following. Their horses stopped at the top of a sandy slope and Neri let out a quiet gasp at the view in front of them. The huge expanse of desert before them was perfectly flat, except for the massive cliff that jutted out of the ground; it had vertical slopes and was taller than anything Neri had ever seen, and glistening on top of it was the white-walled fortress of Weisshaupt. They all removed their hoods, staring in awe, eyes squinting from the blinding sun as they stared up at it. It was incredible, bigger and more impressive than the Royal Palace or any of the Warden Keeps she had seen in Ferelden. And she couldn't help but smile at the griffon banners fluttering in the wind, high in the sky.

"It's beautiful," Arietta breathed.

"I can't believe we're finally here," Max proclaimed. "Seventy-two mosquito bites later and we've finally reached it."

"Don't forget your skin shedding six times from sunburn," Neri added, smirking.

"Or you getting bucked off your horse twenty-three times," Max said with a laugh.

"Or the endless sand in my-"

"We get it," Arietta said. "It's been a long journey."

"Yeah, and I wouldn't get too excited," Rafael added. "We are here to be punished, remember?"

"Oh please, who could punish this face?" Max scoffed.

"You haven't looked in a mirror lately," Rafael retorted, smiling good humouredly.

"Ouch!" Max said, laughing.

"We might as well get this over and done with," Arietta sighed.

"That's an excellent idea," Neri said with a grin. "Race you all to it? Last person there has to comb my hair."

"Maker's breath, Neri," Arietta exclaimed, "your hair is matted beyond-"

"Exactly." Neri grinned wickedly, and then urged Viento forward into a gallop. He charged down the sandy slope onto the flat ground below, his hooves beating down hard on loose sand, kicking up a small sandstorm behind him, his nostrils flaring as he sucked in huge gulps of air.

Neri stole a glance over her shoulder as more hoof beats pounded the ground behind her. Rafael was right on her tail, leaning forward in his saddle on his massive silver stallion, a wicked grin on his face as he gained on her.  _Competitive arse_ , she thought with a smirk. Behind him, neck and neck, were Max and Arietta, both of them watching one another as they urged their mounts to go faster. Neri looked forward again and let out a loud cheer that echoed across the plain; the others joined her, letting out their own calls of joy. It felt amazing to have the wind rushing past her like this, literally blowing the sand out of her hair with their speed. Viento meant wind in Nevarran and Neri dug her feet into her mount's sides, urging him to show her how he got his name as Rafael's silver managed to get up alongside her, its white mane billowing in the winds whipping past them.

"That all you got?" he taunted, grinning.

"Fuck no," she laughed. She leaned down low in the saddle, streamlining herself as much as she could as their two horses battled it out for first place. On the other side of Raf, Arietta's black beauty was catching up with them, her skill at riding showing, a look of concentration furrowing her brows. At Neri's left, Max was just behind her on his chestnut mount, his eyes narrowed as he tried to close the gap. Neri stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed, blue eyes sparkling.

They all veered left together as they approached the fortress, following the massive rock toward the entrance on the other side. All of them were side by side, charging across the sand in a line, cheering and laughing as they crossed under the fortress' shadow, the sun well and truly blocked out above them by Weisshaupt's towering walls. Neri couldn't even see the top of the fortress from down here, making her feel tiny in comparison to the behemoth of a keep the Wardens called their home.

Their laughter died on their lips, however, as they turned the corner and came face to face with a platoon of armed cavalry, and their horses skidded to a halt in front of the small army of very unimpressed looking Wardens.

A man in the silver and blue of the Grey moved forward on a big grey destrier. He removed his helm, revealing golden blond hair, icy blue eyes, and a strong chiselled jaw which he had clenched firmly shut.

"Gutten tag," he said, his Ander accent thick. He spoke woodenly and held himself as such too, back straight, his posture perfect. Neri found herself immediately sitting up straighter to match him. With a glance at Arietta, he dipped his head. "Welcome to Weisshaupt, Commander."

Arietta smiled, bowing her head in reply. "Danke," she said in way of thanks.

"I am Lars Huber, High Constable and Second-in-command to the First Warden," he explained curtly, his cold eyes flickering across them all in silent judgement.

"Well met," Arietta said politely.

Lars glanced at the man with ash-brown hair to his right. "This is Egon Meier, Chamberlain of the Grey." Egon smiled slightly, his dark eyes narrowed.

"Bitte, follow me," Lars said as he turned his destrier around. The cavalry parted before them all, and Arietta led their group forward, after him, following him up the slope that led to the fortress above.

The path was only wide enough for them to ride in single file as it zigzagged up the cliff face. Neri had to remind herself not to look over the edge, because she was pretty sure that would make her hurl and that would be  _really_  embarrassing in front of so many stony-faced Wardens. The view was impressive though. All that desert Neri had despised trekking through these past few weeks looked utterly spectacular from up here, and she could see for  _miles_ ; it was no wonder why the fortress had been built here upon this rock given how far in every direction you could see.

They finally reached the top, and the huge white gate gradually opened for them. The High Constable rode forward, his dark blue cape flowing behind him, rippling like water, and they followed him into a courtyard of high-walled white stone that glistened like crystal. The fortress loomed over them, looking both beautiful and threatening. The mounted Wardens followed them in, their armour rattling loudly, and surrounded their little group in a semi-circle, all perfectly lined up and still. Egon and Lars were in front of them and dismounted in unison as some stable boys rushed over to them and took the reins of their destriers from them. Arietta dismounted too; Neri, Max and Rafael followed her example and more stable boys came and took their horses away. Lars nodded at them to follow him and they did so.

"Rooms are being made up for you," he said as he led them through a big set of heavy doors. "We saw you coming from quite some distance; we did not, however, expect to you make the last leg of the journey quite so promptly," he said, his voice clipped and unamused.

"As if you haven't raced across the desert on those big ole' horses of yours," Neri retorted.

Lars looked at her, icy eyes getting even cooler, if that were possible. "We have not."

"Oh."

His eyes narrowed. "You are the Slayer of the Archdemon?"

Neri's throat tightened as she nodded. "Yes," she said, her voice suddenly sounding very small.

"Interesting," he said, looking like he had eaten something sour. She felt ashamed, briefly, that she was clearly a disappointment to him and then she frowned; why the fuck should she feel bad that she wasn't some noble human or strong dwarf or something? Fuck him.

"Yeah, seeing as we haven't had a Blight for a couple hundred years, it  _is_  pretty interesting that a handful of Wardens were able to do anything at all, let alone stop a Blight on their own, don't you think?" she bit out.

"Neri…" Arietta warned.

Lars' eyes narrowed slightly. "It is interesting because our reports of you are disparate, at best. Not that any here truly believed you had glowing red eyes nor that you were ten feet tall."

Neri snorted. "Oh,  _those_." She had entirely forgotten about all of the rumours she spread about herself for fun in the name of anonymity. "What, Arietta's reports never mentioned my appearance?" she asked with a glance at the human next to her.

Arietta shrugged. "They never asked."

"This way then," Lars said, as he led them onwards through the stone keep.

The fortress was a maze of identical looking corridors and endless doors, but the High Constable navigated it with ease, leading them to four rooms. "These are your rooms, I advise you to freshen up before a formal tour of the fortress is given in half an hours' time. After that, food will be served for you in the great hall."

"And the First Warden?" Arietta asked.

"He will call on you when he is ready; in the meantime, please make yourselves at home."

"Fat chance of that," Neri muttered as she looked around at their cold, bland surroundings, getting an elbow to her ribs from Arietta in response.

Lars ignored her comments, dipping his head one last time before he walked away.

Their rooms were fairly spacious but thinly furnished with only the essentials present: a dresser for their things, a tall mirror, a very uncomfortable looking bed, a small tub for bathing, and a desk and chair for work. That was it. Neri closed the door behind her, dumped her stuff on the ground and then sat down hard on the bed, frowning at how stiff it was. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and groaned. She had known her hair was bad… but Andraste's dimpled buttcheeks, it looked like a fucking bird's nest. It really was going to be a bitch to untangle all of that and she just knew she was going to have to cut most of it off, something she hadn't had to do since the Blight.  _Just as it was starting to get long again, too._  The rest of her looked pretty disgusting as well; her skin was a mix of tanned patches, an overabundance of freckles, and some pretty gruesome red and peeling spots on her upper cheeks and nose.

Sighing, she peeled out of her clothes, getting sand all over the floor, and then slipped into the waiting bath. She sank below the water, relaxing, letting the cool water wash over all of her. She surfaced and examined some little bottles of shampoo, not knowing what they said due to the writing being in Ander. She poured some into her palm and massaged it through her hair, grimacing at the amount of knots and snarls in it. She washed that out, then shampooed it again and again, running her fingers through the tangles, trying to loosen them. She was pretty sure she was losing more hair than she was untangling, and sighed, giving up and adding the conditioner instead. She let that sink in as she washed her body, then she washed it all off and hopped out of the bath. Her hair was still a little tangled, but it was better. There probably wasn't much point in cutting it now; it would only go and get tangled when they trudged back through the desert anyway. She dressed quickly into the clothes the Wardens had left out for her, feeling cleaner and sand free for the first time in weeks. The outfit was as bland and boring as everything else here but the cotton was loose and airy, much better than what she had previously been stuck in.

She headed out of her room and knocked on Arietta's door before pushing it open. Her friend was sitting on her bed in a towel, drying her damp hair, and she smiled at Neri as she entered. "Feels nice, doesn't it, to be clean again?"

Neri nodded, smirking as she closed the door. "Not having sand stuck in my arse-crack is nice too."

"Or other places," Arietta added, smiling, and Neri chuckled.

"This place is fucking miserable," Neri said as she plonked her ass down on the bed next to Ari. "Did you know it would be like this here?"

Arietta sighed slightly. "The Anderfels are known for their harsh terrain and even harsher people, Neri."

"Then I'm glad Anders didn't grow up here for very long."

"I can't imagine him being all moody or serious even if he did live here," Arietta said with a small smile.

"Nor can I, actually."

"As difficult as they are to speak with, we must try our hardest not to anger them further."

"In other words:  _Neri, keep your mouth shut_."

Arietta smirked. "I wouldn't go  _quite_  that far," she chided. "But I think leaving most of the talking to me might be best, just this one time."

"Yeah, no shit. That Lars fellow  _really_  doesn't like me."

"I don't know… maybe he's just forgotten how to smile?"

"Careful - if they think you have a sense of humour, they might start hating you too."

Arietta laughed and got up from the bed to change, doing the entire thing without ever baring flesh to Neri. She was such a prude sometimes. There was a knock at the door a moment later and Max poked his grinning head in.

"Don't you two look lovely," he said, beaming as he stepped into the room with Rafael just behind him. Both of the boys were in dark blue where Arietta and Neri were in dark grey. They cleaned up well and both looked much happier than they had on the road; Neri rather suspected they'd just had a quickie, the lucky buggers.

"Our escorts for the tour are apparently ready for us," Rafael said.

"Do you think they'll show us the memorial room? Or the old griffon aviaries?" Max asked excitedly.

"Most likely," Arietta replied, smiling.

"How long is this supposed to take?" Neri asked. "I'm bloody starving."

"It's a big fortress," Rafael replied with a shrug.

" _Great_."

"Come on, it will do us good to stretch our legs a bit after all that riding," Arietta said as she headed out of the room.

"There are other muscles I'd prefer to stretch," Neri mumbled.

"We could help with that," Max whispered, smirking as he leant in close to her ear so that his breath brushed over it. She shivered. "Or Raf could while I watch."

Neri let out a frustrated groan. "Anders would have a jealous fit if he knew I'd gone back for seconds without him."

Max just grinned at her. "Well, we're just across the hall if you change your mind."

"Maker, Max," Raf sighed. "We only just – and you want  _more?_ "

"As if I'll ever get enough of you," Max said, smiling adoringly at his husband.

It was still weird to think that they were married now and Neri couldn't help but be a little jealous as she headed out of the room and down the corridor. Arietta was speaking with two Wardens; the ones Neri assumed were here to give them a tour. One was a huge man with long brown hair, his arms as thick as Neri's neck. He remained leant against the wall, arms folded, his expression blank. Next to him a female dwarf who barely reached the man's waist was chatting happily with Arietta.

The man gave them all a hint of a nod, while the dwarf turned to them, grinning. "You're the slayer of the Archdemon?" she said, her eyes wide as she stared up at Neri.

"Yeah, shocking, I know; I don't have glowing red eyes and I'm not ten feet tall."

The dwarf giggled. "I don't think anybody here believed that. Still – you killed an Archdemon! That's incredible! I love dragons, or, I love to study them. I wouldn't want one as a pet, not after seeing several up close."

"You've seen dragons?" Neri asked, eyebrows arched in surprise; they were supposed to be extinct. The one in Ferelden had been a last survivor, or so she thought.

The dwarf grinned but it was the man who replied for her. "She is the fortress' tactician in draconic elimination."

The dwarf shrugged. "I go to locations with dragon sightings and observe the beasts, try to figure out their weaknesses, that kind of thing, all in hopes that it will help us against Archdemons. Gerald here stops me from getting killed." The man grunted in reply.

"So you've never fought or killed one yourself then?" Max asked.

The dwarf pushed her red hair away from her face, smiling slightly. "Oh no, I'm not mad enough to get  _that_  close to them."

"Yes, who'd be mad enough to do that, especially when there is a perfectly good dragon-free path right in front of us?" Arietta asked, giving Neri a very significant look.

Neri glared at her. "It was one time. And don't tell me you weren't tempted to hit that gong either."

"No, Neri, I was not tempted! We were exhausted and we were on top of an icy mountain path. You could not have picked a worse time to summon a fucking dragon!"

Neri rolled her eyes.

"Why have I not heard this story before?" Max asked them both as his gaze flicked curiously between them both.

"Did you kill it?" the dwarf asked, her eyes wide.

"Yeah, that one was all me," Neri replied, "seeing as my companions were busy falling off the icy path," Neri said, smirking.

"Because of you-!" Arietta sucked in rough breath through her teeth and then let it out slowly. "Shall we get on with this tour then?" she asked with a false smile.

"A good idea," the man said as he pushed off from the wall. "This way."


	65. Weisshaupt: part 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a bit of a lore breaker in this. 
> 
> Also thanks to Lys, for betaing <3

It had been days since their arrival at Weisshaupt now and still they had not heard from the First Warden. The tour had, admittedly, been fun. Gerald and the dwarf, Mae, were an interesting pair. Where Gerald would simply point and say 'library' or 'armoury' in that deep stoic voice of his, Mae would roll her eyes and explain it a bit more thoroughly. And they had been shown so much. Neri had known the fortress was large but it went much deeper into the rock than she thought it might. It was remarkable. But as magnificent as it looked at first glance, there was also a profound sadness here. Where other Warden Keeps were filled with hope, a hope that they were making a difference, changing things, protecting people, Weisshaupt felt bleak; they had lost so much – it was apparent everywhere you looked with the empty beds in the barracks from their dwindling numbers, to the dusty old griffon aviaries, to the barren blighted desert surrounding the fortress. And the Wardens here seemed to carry that sadness like a badge; their eyes so filled with sorrow from their seemingly impossible cause. Neri tried not to think about it too much but it was hard not to.

Since their first night, they had mostly spent their time recovering from their journey. Arietta had sent letters back to Amaranthine, updating them, and had spent much time speaking with other Wardens. Max and Raf had barely been around at all, too busy making use of their free-time and privacy. So Neri had stayed in the library, for the most part, reading old Warden accounts and other fascinating documents. Being new to the Wardens with the Blight, and thus having to figure out what being a Warden meant on their own, had left Neri feeling like she didn't always fully appreciate or understand the Order. There was so much history here, so many heroic tales, more so than she had ever been able to get her hands on in the Circle. But there were darker accounts, too. Of other blood mages and Wardens who walked the line between going too far and doing whatever it took to stop the Blight. It was somewhat reassuring to know Neri wasn't the only Warden to walk such a thin line but she hadn't been able to stop herself from staring at the pile of accounts of Wardens that did go too far and wonder if she'd ever be added to it.

She had been called to yet another boring dinner and had groaned upon entering and seeing the same fucking meal as the past three nights sitting on the table: potatoes and sausages marinated with the limited spices and herbs held in the fortress's stores. They didn't even add  _gravy_.

"You've been spoilt," Arietta pointed out, smirking as she came in through the hall's doors.

Neri shot her a dirty look. "Have not."

"You want gravy, that thick creamy stuff we always have back at the Keep with all the meat fats stirred into it." Neri's mouth began to water and Arietta gave her a knowing smile. "Knew it."

"Well come on! Who serves bangers and mash  _without_  gravy?" They took a seat at the table, opposite Max and Rafael who had already began tucking into their food, no doubt hungry after their workouts.

"Anders do, apparently," Max laughed. "At least the sausages are good though!"

"Of course you like them," Neri said, smirking, "they're thick just like Raf's-"

" _Neri_ ," Rafael hissed at her, his cheeks flushing with colour as he glanced nervously at the Commander.

"What? She was going to find out eventually…"

Arietta frowned, looking between them all as Rafael stared down at his plate, trying to hide his face from view. And then she gasped in realisation.

"Sweet Andraste, you didn't! When did this happen?"

Max and Neri both burst out laughing as Rafael groaned and rubbed his temple. "After your brother's wedding," he admitted.

"And you managed to keep it quiet all this time?" she asked incredulously, looking at both Max and Neri.

"I can keep my mouth shut when I need to," Neri protested.

"Helps if she has a cock down her throat though," Max added, chortling.

"Maker's breath," Arietta groaned. "Please stop."

"Oh come on, there's nothing wrong with having a laugh," Neri argued. "Especially when everyone here's so bloody miserable."

Arietta just shook her head, her cheeks aflame and Neri couldn't help but grin as she sheepishly looked across at Max who was sniggering quietly to himself.

…

Neri was just about to leave the table, her food eaten, if rather dramatically with lots of sighs and crinkles of her nose, when someone cleared their throat from the end of the table - one of the servants. "Lars and Egon will see you now, Warden Neria."

Neri stared at the boy dumbly. "Wait, I have to speak to grumpy and grumpier  _alone_?" she stuttered out; that was not what she had expected at all.

"They will speak with the others afterwards, but yes, you are to see them first, Slayer," the servant replied, brows furrowed and Neri groaned.

"Bloody fuck," she mumbled.

A hand squeezed her shoulder and Neri glanced at Arietta and her reassuring smile. "It will be fine. Just answer their questions, stay calm and try to be polite."

"Easy for you to say," Neri muttered as she pushed her chair back.

"Good luck," Rafael said with a hint of a smirk at his lips.

"We've got your back if anything happens," Max promised, smiling.

With a nod, she left the table and followed the servant down several corridors. The servant stopped outside of two wooden doors; he pushed them open, announced her, motioned for her to step in and then closed them after her. She swallowed thickly as she took in the large room before her. There was a big table in the centre, and sitting at the end of it was the Chamberlain, Egon, the brown haired fellow. His gaze was fixed on some papers in front of him which he was idly flickering through. The Second-in-command, Lars, was standing in front of one of the long narrow windows, staring out of it pensively. Neither of them acknowledged her existence.

She cleared her throat and Egon's eyes flicked up to her, watching her over the top of the spectacles resting on his nose. Looking very disinterested, he waved at her to sit in the chair in front of her before he returned to looking at his papers. Neri glared at him as she took a seat and folded her arms across her chest. Lars finally turned around, his jaw clenched, as he regarded Neri coolly. She tried not to be offended by the look of distaste twisting his features, but it was really fucking hard and her fists clenched.

"Tell me truly, Neria," he said, "did Flemeth, or whomever she sent to tell you of the Ritual, offer you anything other than simple survival?"

Neri opened her mouth and then closed it again as she blinked at them in confusion. That… that was not what she had expected them to ask first. She had expected them to ask her  _how_  she survived. She had been prepared to explain it all to them, her survival, the consequences, her reasoning for choosing that over the 'noble' sacrifice. But they already knew? And stranger still, they didn't seem fazed by it at all.

" _How-?"_  she managed to rasp out.

Egon removed his reading spectacles, placing them neatly down on the table in front of him. "Garahel was offered the same ritual. He accepted it, but not without first asking Flemeth where the remaining Old God prisons were. His arrogance paid off; it is how we learned of their locations, not that we can do much with such information."

"But, he  _died_."

Lars rolled his eyes. "That's what the stories say, yes. The Ritual was an experiment, a risk," he explained. "Garahel did not expect it to work, hence why he asked for something else in return. But he survived."

"The few Wardens who knew, faked his death," Egon said. "They kept him in the shadows while they watched him, trying to understand how the ritual had saved him. Once they had learned all they could, they allowed him to retire."

"How… how long did he live for after the killing blow?" she asked quietly, afraid to hear the answer.

Egon's head tilted slightly, perhaps in pity. "A decade, give or take."

Neri sighed, closing her eyes.

"I see you have already discovered the consequences," Lars said from her side. "There is no reversing what was done to you."

She looked up at him, frowning. "And what exactly was done to me?"

He perched himself against the table, his blue eyes boring into her. "The Old God's soul passed through you to reach the unborn foetus. The taint was removed from its soul… and left within you, or at least that is what the Wardens of the previous Blight theorised while observing Garahel."

Neri's gaze dropped to the table, her frown deepening. "Morrigan failed to mention that part," she said bitterly.

"It is possible that this… Morrigan did not know," Egon said. "Flemeth did not warn Garahel either, likely because it would make the Ritual seem less appealing, and for whatever reason, she desperately wanted the Old Gods preserved."

Neri looked up at them both, her eyes flicking between them. "If Garahel did the Ritual… then that means an Old God child was born," Neri suddenly realised. Egon and Lars shared a look.

"It was a she," Egon explained. "Andora, she called herself, after the Old God Andoral which she once was."

"The Dragon of Slaves," Neri murmured.

"And of Chains and Unity," Lars added, nodding.

"She came to the Wardens wanting to help their cause, but she was… unstable," Egon said with a twist of his lip. "The records are rather vague on just what transpired all of those years ago. Something terrible happened, however, and the Wardens were forced to lock her up."

"They couldn't kill her?" Neri asked.

"Again, the records are unclear; apparently they were not sure if she  _could_  be killed and, if she could, if it would result in the death of said Warden. They locked her up instead, somehow managing to trick her."

"You're certain she's still locked up?" Neri asked, suddenly on edge as she leaned forward in her seat.

"Of course," Egon scoffed. "We receive regular reports from the Wardens stationed there. That prison has been stable for almost two centuries; that creature isn't getting out any time soon."

Somehow that didn't put Neri's mind at ease; his over-confidence was just asking for trouble.

"You received reports about a blood mage terrorising us," Neri said carefully. "That blood mage goes by the name of Chain Breaker."

"A little pretentious, perhaps, but what of it?" Lars asked.

"Well… you said the Old God child had been locked up."

"You think she escaped?" he scoffed. "Chain Breaker could mean any number of things – a mage free of the Chantry's control, for example."

"I guess…" Neri mumbled, not really believing it. Tethar wouldn't have sounded so frightened otherwise. And she couldn't figure out why he would fear a blood mage, even if she was a powerful one; he didn't fear Neri. But an Old God child? That had the potential to be terrifying; Neri would know, she had spent many a night wondering what the child Morrigan would have would turn out like. It would have been born by now. She idly wondered if it would have Morrigan's yellow eyes or Loghain's blue.

"But she is working with the Architect," Neri said, "And we don't know why."

"Mistress Woolsey's reports were accurate then? The Architect still lives?" Lars asked, puckering his lips in distaste.

"Yes," Neri said softly. "Look, we allied with him to stop a sentient Broodmother from beginning another Blight. The Architect and his darkspawn aided us; without them we may not have succeeded. It would have been pretty rude after all of that to just slaughter them all."

Lars' lip curled in disgust. "That creature is dangerous, you cannot trust it," he said, his eyes burning with fury.

"I don't trust him. But he has his uses. And he wants the same thing we do: for the Blights to end," she argued. "Clearly what we do currently to stop the Blights isn't enough. It's all reactionary. The Architect is an opportunity in prevention."

"Prevention," Egon barked out derisively. "Did he or did he not begin the fifth Blight?"

"He did… but that was an-"

"Fools," Egon spat, shaking his head. "I cannot believe you let such a creature live!"

"He made a mistake," Neri muttered.

"A mistake that cost just how many lives?" Lars asked, scowling down at her. He sighed heavily. "Do you have any idea where it was planning on going? What it wanted to do next?"

She did, sort of. Velanna was with him now and would be sending reports back to the Keep soon. On their journey to the Anderfels, Neri and the others had discussed how they would answer this question, and all of them had agreed that their accord with the Architect was to remain a secret so as to avoid other Wardens hunting down the Architect and his talking darkspawn – Tethar and the others included – thus ruining any chances they might have at discovering a cure.

"No," she answered. "He said he wished to do research in peace, that's it."

Lars shook his head, irritated. "You are dismissed." He waved his hand toward the door. "I have heard enough." He showed her his back as he looked through the papers Egon had been reading when she entered. She stared at them both in disbelief, stunned by their rudeness.

She shoved her chair back. "You're welcome, by the way," she spat harshly.

Both men glanced at her, scowling.

"Every single Ferelden Warden died the night of mine and Arietta's joining," she said glaring at them. "There were three of us left. We barely knew what being a Warden even meant, didn't know half of the Order's secrets either, but that didn't stop us from doing everything we could to gather support to stop the Blight, and that was  _with_  a civil war raging as well. But we did it. We killed the Archdemon and ended the Blight, on our own, while you bastards sat at the border twiddling your fucking thumbs. And then we came all the way out here to this hellhole you call a home because you asked us to, we wait for  _days_  for you to see us and you're just going to dismiss me like  _that?_ "

Lars straightened to his full height and took a step toward her, his expression one of complete calm. "Your tone is not appreciated, Warden Surana. But your displeasure has been noted. You want recognition? Well, here it is. Well done for ending the Blight. Thedas thanks you. I will be sure to add you and the others to the Wall of Honour for your outstanding achievements." His brow quirked slightly and he stared at her uninterestedly. "Now, if you are quite done? We have more important matters to discuss than complimenting you for ending a Blight that barely had the chance to begin."

"No, I am not done!" she spat. "That Blight barely had a chance to begin because of  _us_!"

Lars' expression darkened, his jaw twitching as it clenched. "We had eyes on the border, an entire force waiting,  _twiddling their thumbs_  as you so astutely put it. If Denerim had fallen, we would have sent those forces in to protect the next largest city. We had defensible positions planned out, a surplus of supplies at the ready  _and_  naval back up in place. You were never alone, but Ferelden simply wasn't as defensible as Jader, and thus we did not press the issue of invading somewhere we were not welcome for fear that we would lose too many men to Loghain and his armies.

"On top of all of that, we were dealing with a spike of darkspawn activity around the remaining two Archdemons. Spikes usually occur just before a Blight begins. The darkspawn swarm when they get close to a prison, digging frantically in numbers by the thousands. We feared – still fear – a double Blight. We did not want to waste our resources on a Blight that did not even have one eighth of a true horde only for us to be hit even harder by two more. So tell me again, why should I waste time  _thanking_  you? Especially when you tell me it is possible that the Architect, who you let live and who also started the fifth Blight, may possibly be working with, at the very least a powerful blood mage, and at worst, an Old God Child?"

Neri swallowed thickly. "Well I mean, we  _did_  kill most of that one eighth, so…"

"Out!" Lars snapped.

Neri winced and fled from the room, letting the doors shut behind her.

"Balls," she sighed.

…

Neri had returned to the dining hall red in the face, with all of the fight gone from her. Arietta had wanted to question her, but the First Warden had summoned her away before she'd had the chance.

The First Warden, Torsten Kappel, greeted Arietta surprisingly warmly, shaking her hand with a grin. Then again, anything could be considered warm against the cold greetings the Second and Chamberlain had given. Torsten was a tall man with a slight gut, broad shoulders and white-blond hair which he had let grow out long and loose around his face, unlike the other Wardens at Weisshaupt who kept their hair cropped short. His chambers were also very different to the rest of the fortress; they were lavish, verging on excessive, with rugs and animal skins decorating the hard wood floors, and massive paintings covering much of the wall space.

"Running a country, an arling, and a Keep," he said, grey eyes sparkling. "Consider me impressed, Commander."

"Thank you, First Warden," she replied sincerely, smiling. "It's an honour to meet you." She gave him the usual Warden bow.

"Ha!" He slapped her on the back. "Enough of that!" he said as he steered her toward the sofas and bar. "We're equals in this room." He lifted a bottle of brandy, offering it to her. She nodded politely, and he poured them both a glass. "My Second believes you need to be questioned," Torsten began, and Arietta couldn't help but glance at the silent blond standing with his arms folded by the window, looking most unimpressed. "But I'd much rather talk, wouldn't you?" Torsten asked as he handed her glass to her. She took it with a small smile and a nod.

His Second made a disgusted noise, clearly annoyed. "With respect, First Warden, there is much we need to formally discuss. Having spoken with Warden Surana…"

Torsten waved him off. "A conversation always produces better results than a damned trial, Lars. Leave us," he ordered. Lars' blue eyes narrowed but he bowed and then left the chambers. "Please sit," Torsten encouraged, offering the sofa to her as he took a seat in a large cushioned chair.

She sat, smiling. "This is a lovely room," she said as she admired the ornate table in front of her.

Torsten grinned. "I never was one for simplicity. I much prefer lavish rugs, fine drapes and silk sheets to the shit everyone else here uses. I should have been born the son of a noble; alas, I was born the son of a farmer instead!" He laughed hard and then looked at her with smiling eyes.

"So, Arietta, was it?" he asked as he settled back into his seat. She nodded. "Very good. Lars is useless with names; you're all numbers and pieces on a map to him. I, on the other hand, have always been a people person." He flashed her another brilliant grin, one that lit up his face a brilliant white against his tanned skin. "I trust your trip here wasn't too awful?"

She shook her head. "Not at all; the final leg was the hardest but we managed."

"Ah yes, the blasted desert. I've half a mind to move this damned fortress somewhere more reasonable, but apparently that is ill-advised." He shrugged, chuckling. "No matter, you're here now and we have much to discuss."

He took a sip of his drink, sighing contentedly and then placed it down on the table before looking at her intently. "Lars filled me in on what your Second said. So I must ask: I assume you believed the Architect when he said he wished to stop the Blights?"

"I did - I still do," she answered seriously. "Think of how many men we lose, how many soldiers and innocents die every single time there is a Blight, and that is with us  _winning_. Their dead easily double ours; the Architect described it as a plague on his kind. He might make mistakes, but I do believe he is well-intentioned and does wish to end the Blights."

Torsten nodded thoughtfully. "My colleagues are not pleased that such a creature still lives. I, on the other hand, think this can only be for the better." He chuckled when Arietta blinked in surprise. "Imagine what we could accomplish with sentient darkspawn allies – look at what  _you_  accomplished with just four of them working with you. A darkspawn nest destroyed, your Keep saved and the Broodmother stopped, all with minimal deaths and injuries to you, your men and the surrounding areas. If we worked with them more closely we could not only figure out how to end the Blights, but we could reclaim the Deep Roads, broker peace between darkspawn and dwarves."

He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes shining with excitement. "For too long Wardens have simply sat waiting for a Blight to begin. We know where the prisons are, but we don't  _do_  anything; there are too many darkspawn between us and the prisons and we would all die out long before ever reaching them. But this Architect could possibly control the darkspawn, make it so that they don't hear the Old God's call at all. He could get us to the prisons. We could finally set up some kind of strong hold at the prison gates and defend the damned things from darkspawn. The Architect could well be our salvation."

She was speechless. Of all the things she had expected the First Warden to say, that was decidedly not among them. He laughed. "You were not expecting such an attitude from me, were you?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "I… no, I was not. Your letter was in a tone that suggested we were in a great deal of trouble for our actions."

"Bah! It wasn't my letter; blame Lars or Egon for that shit. I just sign the dotted line when they tell me to. Those straight backs are so set in their ways, unable to see options or possibilities; to them, the only good kind of darkspawn is the dead kind."

"I've heard similar things, although I can understand the reasoning behind it."

"Mmm. And I'm not suggesting we should  _trust_  these darkspawn, but things are desperate enough that something must be done, something needs to change. And seeing as we have the same goals as these new sentient darkspawn… this could be the start of something great, Commander."

He leaned back in his seat again, lifting one leg lazily across his knee. "I have been working closely with the king here in the Anderfels for years now, advising him, but still he focuses his attentions on Hossberg. It leaves us weak to a Blight, to a Qunari invasion, to everything. The people here look to the Wardens for leadership and protection; a role we gladly fill. But it is not enough. You are Queen, and your Warden husband, King; you are the very first Wardens to rule as such. This puts us in a new and interesting position, one that I hope inspires change elsewhere too."

She frowned a little. "You mean to put more Wardens in charge of countries?" she asked incredulously. "There would be no heirs…"

He snorted. "Well….would that be so bad? They could be voted in and it would stop idiotic heirs taking the thrones when they haven't a clue how to be a good ruler. King Cailan springs to mind. Maric was a great man, from what I've heard, but Cailan? He never should have been on the front lines, not when he had been warned by the Wardens that it was a true Blight." He shook his head. "But no. I don't expect such things to ever come to pass…. What I  _want_  is for Wardens to be advisers to rulers in every country, to be respected and listened to, to never again be forgotten."

He took a long pull from his drink. "The Blight in Ferelden has helped to remind people of the threat the darkspawn pose, but they will forget again soon enough. What they need is a more frequent reminder. Yes, we can continue to tell them, to spread the word, but the common folk and even the leaders around the world soon grow tired of hearing us when these things are not presently affecting them; they need a more active reminder.

"Take monsoons, for example. There is a season in which they hit the coast without fail every year here in the north. The people know the signs of a monsoon, know when they are coming and know what to do to prepare. They tie down what they can, bring inside the rest, harvest their crops, some may even go to shelters built by the local lords to protect them from the vicious storms. And it works. The damages are usually minimal.

"But what do people do to prepare for a Blight?  _Nothing_. They leave it to the Wardens, but we cannot properly prepare when our numbers dwindle in the long years between Blights, when our funds get cut. The people only care about such things when there are darkspawn at their doorsteps, affecting their lives."

He tapped his armrest with a finger. "If there were to be regular darkspawn raids on the surface… perhaps ones that we had a hand in controlling, the people would soon beg for more Wardens; our numbers would swell, and the world's leaders might actually listen to us."

Arietta sat back in her seat, frowning slightly. "You would… use the sentient darkspawn to raid the surface, causing panic, all to trick the rulers into thinking they  _need_  the Wardens?"

"Something like that, yes. I know how it sounds. But we do what we must, right? Once we gained a foothold with each of the world's leaders, we could slowly and successfully push back the darkspawn raids, ending the attacks, proving to them once more that Wardens are needed. With their trust we would slowly be able to implement other changes: adding more money to our funds, for one, so that we have the best equipment and can afford to train fresh recruits more effectively. And as I said before, we might actually be able to reach the Old God prisons with the darkspawn's help to defend them properly. As it is, we do not know what will come after both of those Old Gods are awoken. Will the darkspawn go mad without the Calling? Will they all become sentient with nothing to keep them controlled? Will they simply cower in the dark? What if having no purpose, no Calling to reach for, makes things worse? We need to be prepared for such a cataclysm."

"I don't disagree about needing to be ready for such things…" she admitted. "But tricking people is not something I'm sure I'd be comfortable with. And even that comes with risks. These sentient darkspawn still carry the Blight sickness, and there could be fatalities involved if they get into a fight with the common folk. Although they are smart, each has a distinct personality; some could remain blood thirsty and aggressive. The ones we met were good, but that doesn't mean they all will be."

"Understood." He stood and offered her his hand. She took it and allowed him to lead her to his balcony. Her breath hitched in her throat at the view. The sky was a deep blood red, the sands a vibrant orange as a huge sand storm swept across the plain. "The Anderfels were not always so arid," he said. "Did you know there are rainforests in the north? They once covered much of this country with lush green forests and meandering rivers. Now look at it." He glanced at her, smiling softly, his eyes sad. "You are fortunate that you ended the Blight in Ferelden so quickly. Your lands will recover, in time. But now imagine how different things would have been if your king hadn't died at Ostagar, if he had listened to the Wardens warnings, taken them more seriously. Your country would have been better prepared; perhaps it wouldn't have lost at all. That's what I want to guarantee everywhere, always."

She nodded thoughtfully as she stared out at the endless expanse of desert. "What would you have me do?" she asked cautiously, still unconvinced by his absurdly risky plans.

"Very little; as rulers, you can continue to remind people of the importance of our Order. Perhaps you can influence other nations neighbouring yours as well. But most importantly, when you meet the Architect again – I know that you will; you do not strike me as the sort of person to let a creature like that simply disappear, but I understand why you would keep something like that quiet - I simply ask that you tell him of my hopes and my plans."

She gave him a small polite smile, surprised he had figured her out so quickly; perhaps he really was a people person, even if he was insane. "I can do that," she said.

He grinned. "Excellent." He headed back inside and she followed. "It is my understanding that these darkspawn are made from your Second's blood and that the darkspawn made from her blood are now friends with her?"

"That's right, mostly. It's an odd relationship, to be sure."

He chuckled. "I can only imagine. I would ask you to encourage her to keep that odd relationship intact, if she can."

Arietta nodded. "I will pass that along to her."

"Thank you," he said happily. "I have nothing further to say, so I shall let you return to your friends, Commander. But know that you are welcome to stay at Weisshaupt as long as you please. If I do not see you again, I hope you have a safe journey home, and thank you for taking the time to meet with me. It means a lot."

She dipped her head to him. "Thank you for being so… reasonable, First Warden."

"Well, someone around here needs to be," he said with a deep booming laugh that made Arietta smile as she left his chambers.

Arietta found Neri in her room, sitting on her bed with a book in hand. The elf looked up at her as Arietta slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.

"Clearly your meeting was more pleasant than mine," Neri grumbled.

Arietta smiled. "It was… interesting. The First Warden is not what I expected at all," she confessed. "He approves of my decision to spare the Architect; he wants to work with him," she said, still not quite believing it herself.

"Huh."

"I know. He's ambitious, Neri, he's got such grand plans and ideas. Things I had never even – would never - consider."

"Now that is surprising," Neri said with a smirk.

Arietta nodded as she came and sat next to her friend. "I'll explain it all later. First I want to hear what Egon and Lars said to you."

The elf sighed heavily and closed her book. "Where do I begin? I found out that I'm not the first to do the Ritual – Flemeth's ritual. Garahel did it too. They kept it a secret, faked his death and everything. He died ten years later due to advanced taint, just like I will."

"Maker," Arietta breathed out in a rush, her hand automatically cupping her friend's hands. Neri smiled back sadly. "They couldn't find a cure, a way to reverse it or-?"

"No. But they did have a theory as to why we end up extra tainted. They think we get all of the Old God's taint as it passes through us and into the Old God baby so that the child is born taint-free." She shrugged. "Apparently Flemeth failed to mention that little detail to Garahel too."

"Bitch," Arietta hissed.

"I'd be dead without it," Neri reminded her.

"It still wasn't honest."

"Maybe not, but the entire Ritual sounded shady. It was blood magic of some kind, yet I still persuaded Loghain to fuck Morrigan and save our asses." She sighed slightly. "Because of Garahel's actions, an Old God child was born, one with the soul of the Old God Andoral, Dragon of Slaves, Unity and Chains. Apparently she caused some trouble with the Wardens and ended up getting locked up for it. She's got guards, they send regular reports that all is well at her prison, but…"

"You think she escaped," Arietta guessed with a sinking feeling coiling in her gut. She frowned. " _Chain Breaker_ …you think she is the blood mage," she realised.

"It's possible. Or she could really just be a blood mage that helped to free the darkspawn and Urthemiel from his prison and that's how she got her name. I really don't know, Ari."

"But if the former is true… then we are in way over our heads here, Neri."

"Yeah," Neri sighed. "These are journals from the old Wardens, the ones who dealt with the Old God child. Mae helped me find them, so I started reading them, trying to find answers. But that's not the only thing to worry about. The Wardens here are worried there will be a double Blight soon; they were actually relieved when we had a Blight in Ferelden simply because it meant they wouldn't have to hunt and kill three Archdemons at once."

"Maker's breath, that's a lot to take in," Arietta said as she stared blankly at the stone ground.

"Yeah, no shit. I'm going to tell them to check on Andora, the Old God child, in person, to make sure she's locked up, but if she is our mysterious blood mage then it wouldn't surprise me to hear that she is fucking with Warden's minds. As for this double Blight… we should probably talk to the Architect about it. And if he won't give us answers, then I'll need to speak to Tethar and the others instead, see if I can't get them talking."

"Neri… he warned you not to go into the Deep Roads."

"I know that. But some things are more important than me, and if we are dealing with a potential double Blight and an Old God child at the same time then we need to fucking know about it."

Arietta shook her head, sighing. "I'll need to inform the others so that we can prepare for the worst."

"They can't know, Ari. Not about the Old God child, at least. I told you, she could be controlling people. We know she messed with Max's head and mine, maybe Anders' too. It's a risk me even talking about this stuff with you."

"Neri…"

"I'm serious. Tethar was scared of her.  _Scared_  of her. Do you think darkspawn are scared of many things? No, of course they're not. I get that you want to prepare, but we don't even know what we're preparing  _for_  yet. Just… let's get more answers first, okay?"

"Fine," Arietta relented a little moodily. She hated this, the not knowing; she liked to be able to plan and prepare and organise things ahead of time, considering every possibility, things went wrong when she didn't, heck, even when she did things  _still_  went wrong but at least she usually felt as if she had mitigated damages. But they were simply tossing around theories in the dark here and it was infuriating.

"So, what now?" Neri asked.

"We leave. Torsten said we can go whenever we wish. I figured we could stay a few more nights, let you and Max rest up some more – that will give you a chance to read more of those journals too – then we can go home."

"Sounds good. I'll go let Max and Raf know. Lars and Egon didn't even bother speaking with them; they were right pissed about it."

"So they were dragged all this way for nothing?"

Neri cracked a smile. "Well, they did get married, so that's something at least."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think of this one! You must think SOMETHING, right? So throw a comment at me <3 
> 
> Also, prepare yourselves for the start of the finale next week. It's like six?? chapters long because I don't know how to life.


	66. Finale: Autonomy: Part 1 of 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My God. Here we are. Start of the official finale (even if I have been concluding quite a few plot threads in recent chapters). I need to give a few warnings for this one: gore, death, panic attacks and more. You've read this far. So you should be fine with it. But I figured I'd warn anyway. 
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE WONDERFUL FEEDBACK ON THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER. Holy FUCK. There have been a few chapters throughout this fic that I couldn't wait to get to - Anders and Neri reunion, the first Darkspawn attack. Stuff with the Architect. The Neri/Anders/Zev/Blood Mage meeting, and that Weisshaupt chapter to name a few. And I am just so fucking glad that you're enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it. So thank you for your lovely comments and do keep them coming. If any of you are writers, you'll KNOW how precious every single comment is and even if you're not, just know that putting a grin on my face? That's fucking fantastic, especially when I'm having a shite day of it. So yeah, please keep them coming. Throw questions at me, I will be glad to answer them. And I'm gonna stop gushing now. I'll save that for the real finale ;) 
> 
> Expect a bunch of cameos/appearances from old characters in this one. Plus some more AU stuff. 
> 
> ENJOY!

When Anders had mentioned to Neri that he might actually not mind going back to the Tower, he hadn't expected to be doing it quite so soon, or alone – especially the alone part. He was always overwhelmed by a sense of dread whenever he saw the Tower, tall and foreboding out in the centre of the lake, that thick unnatural fog swirling around its base. He wiped his sweating palms on his robes and reminded himself that he was a free man now and he was going back out of  _choice_ , no chains involved and no threat of being locked in solitary looming over his head, or so he hoped.

It had been Olivia and Lenny's idea, obviously, because he never would have willingly suggested something like this. They wanted him to give some lecture about the Wardens to the mages, specifically about darkspawn magic, in hopes that it would encourage more mages to at least show an interest in joining the Wardens. He wasn't  _quite_  so optimistic; telling them that darkspawn had spells that could drain the blood from their bodies or drive them mad with corrupted hexes probably wasn't the best sales pitch. But Olivia was of the same mind as Arietta, that the less secrets the Wardens had, the better.

The usual ferryman smirked at him as he approached. "And here I thought I'd never see you again," Kester laughed. "But look at that, no chains. You have done well, lad."

Anders smiled at the older man. "It's a surprise to me too."

"Well, come on then," he said, already stepping into the boat. It swayed slightly as he settled down in his seat and Anders waited for it to be still again before following him in. He took a deep breath as he glanced down at the sparkling waters lapping gently at the edge of the boat, recalling the last time the Templars had rowed him across the lake before locking him in solitary for a year. He shivered. This wasn't like that. He was  _going_  to walk back out again.

Kester began to row.

"So, you're a Warden now?" the man asked, eyeing Anders' blue and silver robes.

" _No_ , I just felt like a bit of role play was in order for today," Anders snarked as his fingers tapped nervously on his knees.

The ferryman chuckled. "Whatever floats your boat, lad."

Anders stared up at the Tower, watching as it slowly faded from view as their boat slipped into the fog. The gentle splash of the paddles hitting the water was the only sound filling the eerie silence the fog always brought, and Anders took some slow steadying breaths, hoping to calm his fluttering heart; the images flashing through his mind of that damned cell weren't helping though. He could still recall the demon's whispers even now, telling him the only way out was with their help. He had believed them, had been so close to giving in. Ironically, it  _had_  been a demon that freed him during Uldred's attack; it had melted the bars of his cell and then Anders had dissolved  _it_  with a few well-placed ice spells. That seemed like such a long time ago now, yet this place still haunted him. But few things were worse than solitary; giving a lecture would be a walk in a park compared to his past experiences here.

A small yellow light appeared ahead of them, only just visible in the fog, and Kester turned their boat toward it. A moment later the docks came into view, and then the sharp rocks that climbed ever higher, merging with the walls of the Tower to reach up into the bright sky high above them. Kester rowed them past the small dock, and under the portcullis and the massive jagged rock that the gate had been cut into. The boat bumped gently against the dock, and Anders closed his eyes, trying not to let the oppressive weight of the Tower above freak him out as it always did.

"I'll be waiting here for you," Kester said softly and Anders opened his eyes, smiling at the man. "Good luck in there." Anders nodded, swallowing thickly, and then climbed out of the boat, his knees a little weak. He lifted his chin, breathed in deeply and then walked forward portraying more confidence than he felt.

Anders had been informed in advance that Knight-Commander Greagoir was on the other side of the lake, overseeing the finishing touches to the new Circle with several mages and Templars; that left Knight-Captain Hadley in charge. Hadley was in the entryway, waiting for him. He still looked very much the same as he always had, with that scruffy chin fluff he called a beard.

"Anders," the man said in greeting, a tight smile at his lips.

Anders smirked at the Templar. "Miss me?"

"Not in the slightest."

"What a pity; you always were my favourite."

Hadley rolled his eyes. "They're upstairs, waiting for you."

"What?" Anders cocked a brow at the man. "No Templar escort? I'm shocked."

"I'm sure I could arrange one if you're feeling lonely," Hadley retorted, a small smile curving his lips.

"No thank you!" Anders said briskly as he slipped past the Templar and through the inner doors followed by the Knight Captain's quiet chuckle.

The Tower was near-identical to how he had left it: dark and smelling like oppression, with suspicious Templars watching his every move; they even glared just like they used to. He passed them, feeling a smug little smile pull at his lips, his confidence growing with each unchained and unescorted stride. He even winked at one of them, chuckling as the man's scowl deepened.

He rounded the corner and was immediately tackled; he hit the ground hard, the air getting knocked from his lungs. He blinked up at the raven-haired mage now sitting on top of him, grinning down at him with her blue eyes bright sparkling cheerfully.

"Sol," he croaked out, smiling.

Solona Amell's eyes narrowed slightly and then she punched him square in the jaw. "You climbed out the fucking  _window_!" she hissed at him.

"Ow!" he complained as he rubbed at his jaw, letting his magic ebb into his skin, already healing the broken flesh. "That hurt!"

She laughed as she clambered off of him and back to her feet. She offered him her hand and he took it. "Serves you right," she muttered as she pulled him to his feet and then into a fierce hug. "It's good to see you again," she said quietly at his ear. "Things are not good here," she continued. His brows furrowed as she pulled back with a broad smiling stretching across her lips.

"What-"

She put a finger to his lips, suddenly serious again as she looked around for Templars. She dragged him over to a secluded alcove and shoved him against the wall with a smirk. Then she leaned in to kiss at his neck, her soft wet lips sliding over his pulse point. He shivered, his head falling back, giving her better access as she continued to kiss and lick her way across his throat.

"Once the new School is complete, mages will be in charge," she said between kisses. "Some of the Templars aren't happy with that, so they're making our lives hell while they still can." Her breath was hot against his skin as she sighed. "Punishments are harsher than ever, privileges have been revoked and curfews put in place." She stared up at him, her eyes filled with worry. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, and she smiled slightly. "There have been so many delays with the new Circle, Anders… I can't help but think it is on purpose."

"That does sound like something they'd do," he admitted, his brows still furrowed. "Does Neri know this?"

Solona shook her head. "How could she?" she said with a spiteful twist of her lips. "The Templars check our letters before they are sent; I had to be subtle to even let her know that I wasn't happy here anymore." She shook her head, frustrated.

"You could just leave with me," he suggested, holding her a little tighter. "Join the Wardens." He smirked slightly. "It's not completely miserable, if you don't mind darkspawn, and the Deep Roads, and having constant nightmares…"

She laughed. "You're really living the dream, huh?"

He smiled at her. "A small price to pay for freedom."

She glanced down, eyes flickering back and forth and then she sighed. "I still believe in the Circle, Anders. I know you don't, and Maker knows, I understand why… but it's the Templars and the Chantry that are the problem, not the Circle itself."

Anders clenched his jaw, shaking his head. Sol had always liked it in the Circle; despite the horrors they had faced, she still thought it was the best place for mages. "You will never have a Circle totally free of either," he told her.

Hard blue eyes flicked back up to his face. "We have to try. Neri knows it too; that's why she freed us in the first place."

"The Templars will always find a way to take back control," he said with a bitter edge to his voice.

"We won't let them," she said, jaw set. "We just need the new Circle completed," she maintained. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. "I was hoping you could-"

"I'll pass the message on, don't worry, Sol." She smiled and he kissed the top of her head, hoping that informing Neri and Arietta would be enough to inspire action; the sooner Sol and the others were free, the better. "Come on," he said, squeezing her hand. "I have a thrilling lecture to give."

"I can't wait for you to give me more compelling reasons to join the Wardens," she teased, smirking.

…

"Lots of you were at the battle for Denerim, but you were probably too busy either trying to stay alive or shitting your pants to notice that the darkspawn have somewhat different magic to our own. Their spells, like them, are corrupted…"

Rylock shook her head, turning away from the apostate to walk down the corridor. That mage had always been trouble, escaping from the Circle seven times, making Albert look a fool; that she-elf, Neria, had  _murdered_  the Templars sent to bring Anders back to the Tower and neither of them had been punished for such sins. Instead they were free amongst the Wardens, allowed to do as they pleased. But that's exactly how the Wardens always operated; even now the new  _School_  was nearing completion, a free Circle, a  _gift_  from the Warden King and Queen. Soon Templars would be mere souvenirs in a mage-ruled Circle.

The Wardens had gone too far, slowly turning Ferelden into a new Imperium; and the Chantry did  _nothing_. Rylock's fists clenched at her side. If they wouldn't step in, she and the loyal Templars would; they would stop the tyranny of magic and force the Chantry to act.

…

"A most fascinating lecture, young man," Irving said, his dark eyes glinting with pride.

"I always was good at talking," Anders commented, smirking.

Irving chuckled. "Your way out of things, certainly," he said good-humouredly, making Anders' smirk widen. Irving's expression darkened a little, growing more serious. He put a hand on Anders' shoulder, squeezing slightly. "I am pleased that you are well; the Wardens seem to suit you."

"It's the armour; really brings out my eyes," Anders quipped back.

Irving sighed, shaking his head, a small exasperated smile cracking through that thick beard of his. "Now I recall why I was always so frustrated with you."

He shrugged. "It's a talent."

Solona came up to them both, grinning. "That wasn't half as boring as I thought it'd be."

"And there I was, hoping I'd have you all nodding off," Anders drawled. Sol smirked.

"I trust I can leave this young man in your capable hands, Solona?" Irving asked. "We all know how much trouble he can be."

Sol chuckled. "I'll keep a close eye on him, First Enchanter; don't you worry."

"Thank you," he said. "Take care of yourself, dear boy," Irving said to Anders with a dip of his head.

"You've got time before you have to leave, right?" Sol asked, looking up at him excitedly. He nodded. "Excellent! You can fill me in on you and Neri." She dragged him off down the corridor toward her personal quarters and Anders couldn't help but smile; Sol always had to know everything, especially when it came to gossip.

…

Sol smelled of lemons as he hugged her goodbye, and he smiled as he breathed in her scent, glad to have had time to catch up with her properly. She had filled his head with gossip, mostly, but he hadn't felt this at ease since Neri had left, and it felt nice to truly laugh again, reminiscing with her when the gossip ran dry, about all the trouble they used to get into together.

"The sooner the new Circle opens, the better," she reminded him as she pulled back. "And you better come to its opening, too."

"I can hardly wait," he deadpanned. She smacked him on the shoulder, grinning.

"Oh, and one more thing." She pushed him back against one of the library's bookshelves and leaned in to kiss him full on the lips; he sighed into her mouth, wrapping his arms once more around her. She smiled against his lips and then pulled back. "Pass that onto Neri for me, would you?"

He chuckled, nodding. "You sure you don't want to pass on anything more?"

She grinned. "If she wants anything else she can damn-well come here and get it-."

Both of them were suddenly thrown forward as the entire Tower shook around them. Sol nearly fell flat on her ass but Anders caught her at the last moment and dragged her close to him. The shaking stopped and they both stared wide-eyed at one another. He could feel her heartbeat pounding in her chest, could see the panic on her face.

"What the fuck was that?" she asked hoarsely, as she continued to clutch onto him.

He shook his head, frowning with worry. "It… felt like it came from above us."

A second tremor tore through the Tower, more powerful this time –  _nearer_ , strong enough to knock the books from the bookshelves around them and cause dust to fall down from the ceiling above them.

"Shit," Sol cursed through her teeth. He stared at her as she started to pace, watching as the dust collected in her dark hair. "This is Uldred all over again, isn't it? Oh Maker. This can't be happening. Not now. We are  _so_  close to freedom!" Her hands were shaking as she lifted them to run them through her hair. It wasn't often that he saw Solana Amell lose her cool. She was always the level headed one out of their little group of three. He grabbed hold of her arms, getting her attention.

"We need to get out of here," he warned, already pulling her away from the bookshelves. They just got past them when another tremor thundered through the Tower above them. The bookshelves came crashing to the ground around them as Anders grabbed Sol and shoved her against one of the walls, protecting her as huge clouds of dust filled the air from the splintered bookshelves.

And then they heard the screams.

Anders looked toward the stairs that led up to the next floor just as smoke began to seep out of the edges of it.

"Andraste's tits," he hissed. "Those were explosions."

Sol took a shaky breath, staring at the wisps of smoke snaking their way through the air toward them. "Who would do this?" she asked, breathless, her voice barely above a whisper. Another scream reached their ears, muffled by the stone above; they were the screams of someone on fire, flames licking across their skin, melting their flesh. He shuddered, remembering his own close call with the Inferno golem. " _Why_  would anyone do this?" Solona hissed, her fear and shock turned to anger now.

"I don't know," he said as he tried to focus back on her. She was staring at him, her dark brows furrowed, her blue eyes dark and hardened. Those explosions had been getting closer with each one. One floor at a time. He shook his head, trying to snap himself out of his own shock. "This floor could be next; we need to get out of here."

"No fucking way," she snapped. "They're screaming –  _dying_  – up there. We have to help them, Anders."

"We aren't fire-proof, Solona," he retorted.

Scowling, she pushed past him and ran for the smoking stairway. He cursed and chased after her.

His breath hitched in alarm as he realised what she was about to do. "Sol, wait!" he cried as she went to pull open the smoking door at the top of the steps.

She opened the door a crack and he only just managed to get a barrier on her before a huge fireball exploded through the air, knocking her backwards, down the stairs. He caught her and both of them crashed back into the ground. The superheated air washed over them, scorching in its intensity, sucking the air right out of his lungs as the flames rolled over the ceiling and down the steps. Smoke poured out next, thick and black, choking as he tried to suck air back into his lungs.

Sol stirred in his arms, mumbling, and he glanced down at her. He healed her injuries quickly, thankful they were just minor burns although she was clearly dazed as she blinked up at him in confusion. He got to his feet and picked her up before carrying her away from the worst of the smoke and placing her back on the ground, both of them coughing already as the black cloud flooded out of the staircase, sweeping across the ceiling.

"I- I can't believe this," Sol muttered, wheezing slightly as she started to sob. "How many? How many people are up there – were up there?"

"I don't know, Sol; I don't know," he said, his heart pounding. His lecture… his stomach knotted with guilt. So many mages had been in the upper levels, in the Great Hall, people he knew, people he had grown up with. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard, the air only getting thicker with smoke. They couldn't stay here; the library would go up in flames soon.

Another voice interrupted them, sleepy and confused. "What's happening?" a little boy asked from the library doorway as he rubbed at his eyes.

Anders stared at the boy, his gut twisting. The apprentices all stayed on the lower levels; none had been permitted to attend his lecture and every single one of them was probably confused and terrified right now.

"Sol, you need to evacuate the lower levels."

She frowned and sat up, shaking her head slightly. "Anders-"

"I-I will check the upper floors for survivors," he said voice quavering.

She shook her head. "No. We do that together; I am not letting you run off again."

He swallowed thickly, his throat burning. "You have to get the children out of here," he said sadly. "They don't know me, don't trust me." She stared at him, her eyes glistening as she shook her head, but no words left her lips. He smiled sadly. "I'm a Warden; I've been in worse situations than this, trust me."

She bit her lip, obviously conflicted, but she nodded, her face twisting with guilt and worry. He helped her to her feet, giving her a reassuring smile, hoping it looked more assured than he felt.

"Don't you  _dare_  die," she growled, hugging him tightly, her breathing laboured as she panted against his neck. She pulled back, her hands clutching his arms. "If you can save any of the senior mages… Irving," she said, voice breaking, "the Circle will be better for it."

He nodded. "I'll do what I can, Sol."

Her grip on his arms tightened and then she let go and rushed over to the little boy, glancing over her shoulder at Anders one last time before she disappeared out of sight with the child.

He stared up at the flames still licking at the stairs, at the splintered and smouldering door, watching as smoke continued to pour down the stairs, filling the room library with smoke.

"I'm going to lose my eyebrows again," he muttered as he pulled the scarf he had around his neck up to cover his mouth and nose, and began to walk back toward the stairs, through the thick smoke.

He called upon his magic, and the blast of cold he let loose was momentarily refreshing as it coated the steps in ice, putting out the fire on the stairs and clearing him a way forward. With any luck, that ice would help to stop the fires from above from reaching the library and lower levels, too.

He held his breath and crept carefully up the dripping wet stairs, still feeling the warmth of the stone through the soles of his shoes. The acrid smoke continued to billow around him, getting sucked down to the oxygen rich levels below, and he quickly found his eyes stinging, watering uncontrollably. He reached the top of the steps and sucked in a desperate breath of air, which he immediately regretted, seeing as the air was black with smoke. He coughed, trying to stay as low to the ground as he could as he looked at the carnage around him.

A quick mind blast cleared the air a bit; there was nothing but blackened smouldering rubble left of the central chamber's walls and a massive black scar on the ground where he assumed one of the explosions had originated. One of the Tower's store rooms was burning, a blaze so hot Anders could feel it from the other side of the room. The flames were crawling across the ground toward him, licking at the walls and ceiling, even melting the stone with their heat. Anders headed away from it.

He could hear coughing nearby, coming from one of the Tower's side rooms - a study, if he had his bearings right, not an easy thing to manage given the smoke and the fire and the fact that almost everything had been completely obliterated up here. Andraste was blocking the door, however, quite literally – a statue of her had been knocked over by the blast. He would have laughed and joked about her burning once again, if he hadn't been just as close to the flames as she was.

He grabbed hold of her, one hand on her head, the other on her tits, and pulled, rocking her forward; he leapt out of the way just as she rolled toward him and then crashed to the ground, shattering. She looked little more than dust now, and Anders stepped through the rubble to reach the door, smashing it open with a blast of magic.

Several terrified mages blinked at him once the dust had settled, and Anders smiled at them, noticing a few he recognised within.

"Oh thank the Maker!" Finn cried, looking up from the unconscious mage he was treating.

"I wouldn't thank him; his bride was the one blocking the door," Anders retorted. A loud bang from somewhere behind him made him wince and remember the seriousness of the situation. "Is she alright?" he asked Finn as he glanced down at the mage lying on the ground.

"She will be if I can get her out of here," Finn replied.

Anders moved out of the way of the door. "Go. The way is clear-ish."

Finn picked up the unconscious mage as the other two helped one another out the door. "I would help you…"

"Finn, it's fine," Anders reassured him.

Finn nodded. "Thank you," he said, with a dip of his head. "Be safe, my friend." The red-haired human led the other mages away and toward the stairs, all of them trying to keep below the smoke. Anders carried on through the mayhem, his lungs burning from the smoke. It was definitely getting thicker, the dark plumes now filling nearly the entire room. He summoned a spell wisp, hoping it would at least help him to see as he struggled to find the stairs – hoping there  _were_  still stairs to be found.

There were bodies everywhere; half of the time he didn't even realise there was a corpse in front of him until he was tripping over it and falling on his hands and knees, forced to look at the charred faces staring up at him. He knew most of the mages in the Tower, knew most of the Templars too, but even he couldn't recognise these faces, burned or crushed as they were. He wasn't sure if he was grateful for that or not.

Finally his little spell wisp illuminated what was left of the stairs. A few steps had crumbled away so he would need to climb up, but these ones weren't on fire, which was something. He clambered over the rubble and then jumped up, trying to get a good hold on the loose and jagged stone above. With a choked hiss he pulled himself up, his lungs flaring with pain as they once again burned furiously. He collapsed onto the top step, his body racked with coughs. He sent a wave of magic across his chest, trying to clear his lungs of smoke, and finally he was able to breathe somewhat normally again. When he looked up, he saw a mage and a Templar lying unconscious on the ground.

"Andraste's knicker-weasels," he hissed as he forced himself back to his feet. He reached their sides, the wheeze in his lungs already back as he checked both of them over. The mage had a head injury and severe smoke inhalation but he would probably be able to save her, the Templar, on the other hand, was bleeding out rapidly from a piece of debris crushing his pelvis. Anders moved to the girl's side and healed her, pushing the smoke out of her lungs and healing the damage done to them before he dealt with the head injury. She awoke coughing a moment later, her eyes wild as she bolted awake.

"It's alright," he soothed, rubbing her back as he slipped more magic into her, easing the aches and pains. "You're going to be fine." The girl glanced down at the dying Templar and a cry left her lips.

"No!" she wailed as she shoved the debris off of him. "Heryn!" She shook his body, trying to wake him up. "You have to save him!" she screamed as she looked up at Anders, her grey eyes matching the dust and ash covering her face.

"He's lost too much blood," Anders explained sadly. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do."

"But you're the best healer here – that's what they always say about you.  _Please!_ " Her voice cracked, turning into a high pitched rasp, and tears began to fall from her eyes, clearing a path through the dust smeared on her face.

He shook his head, tears pricking at his own eyes, lips turned down. "I can't," he repeated.

Her face twisted with anger. "Can't or won't?" she spat. "We all know how much you hate the Templars." She started to sob as she clutched at the Templar. "Go away," she croaked. When he didn't move, she looked up at him, her eyes bright with anger. "I said  _go away_!" she screamed, breaking down into more sobs, her tears falling on the pale cold cheeks of the now-dead man in her lap.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered as he got to his feet. "The way down is clear…you shouldn't stay here." She ignored him, humming some kind of lullaby to the Templar instead as she stroked his hair.

He steeled himself and then walked on through the smoke, letting the spell wisp guide him. He cast another spell on himself, trying to heal his scorched lungs and throat, but it didn't seem to help much; the smoke was too thick now, too toxic. He coated as much of the walls and ground near him in ice as he could, dousing the flickering flames so that he could reach the next section and hopefully the stairs. He doubted many would still be alive up there… not given the smoke and the heat, but if that girl had still been alive then just maybe others were too.

He winced as the ceiling began to collapse, huge slabs cracking and falling to smash into the ground below, but he pushed on, needing to check as much of the Tower as he could before giving up and retreating. "Is anyone alive in here!?" he called out, regretting it instantly as coughs racked his body once more, his throat far too damaged for such volume. There was no reply.

He found the stairs that led to the next floor, but had to feel his way up them through the thick smoke that was rising from the floor he had just left, getting sucked up the stairs with him. It was only as he reached the top of the steps, gasping for breath, retching on smoke, that he realised why that was.

Half of the Tower's outer wall was missing, blown up and simply  _gone_. Smoke poured out of it, blackening the blue sky above. It did make things easier to see on this floor though, but that, as it turned out, was not a blessing. There were bodies scattered across the ground, their limbs bent in odd directions like ragdolls thrown across the ground. There were charred body parts strewn around as well, roasted and singed where the blast had pulled mages and Templars alike apart. He covered his mouth, his stomach churning at the sight of so many people blown to smithereens or burned alive. Their melted faces stared up at him - some he recognised from his lecture that morning, and others he had known his whole life - all of them dead.

Pain flared in his chest and he clutched at it, gasping as he grabbed hold of the wall with his other hand, trying to steady himself as his eyes began to blur. He tried, over and over, to take deep breaths, to calm himself…but it was no use. He was already close to hyperventilating, and the pain in his lungs crippled him with every short, sharp breath. Pain shot down his legs, like lightning travelling to all the way down to his toes, and suddenly he was on his hands and knees as the entire Tower spun around him, making his stomach lurch. His fists clenched, fingers scraping across rubble, dust under his nails. His heart pounded in his chest, forcing blood to rush past his ears, drowning out everything else.

He collapsed to the ground and rolled onto his back, his hands clutching at his rapidly rising and falling chest. His throat tightened, his airways closing, and he let out a strangled sob as tears fell down the sides of his face. He was dying. This was it. He was dead. He was going to die in this miserable fucking Tower surrounded by smoke and ash and the corpses of so many others. He'd be unidentifiable just as many of them were, just one more body to throw on a joint pyre. He would never see Neri again. Never see anyone again. His stomach flipped and he only just managed to roll onto his side before he threw up the contents of his stomach, choking and gagging as his throat burned and clenched. He cried into the ground, wheezing and choking, his entire body shaking. He didn't want to die. Not like this. This was worse. This was so much worse than Solitary had been. Maker, this was hell. All around him the smoke and fire closed in on him. He would pass out soon. Smoke inhalation. Then the flames would reach him and burn him alive. Maybe he'd even wake up as the flames reach him. The thought sent a new wave of panic through him and he curled up on his side, his knees up against his chest as he continued to gasp for breath. Please.  _Please_. Maker. Not like this. Not like this. He always knew this Tower would kill him, one way or another. He didn't want to be right.

A bright light suddenly blinded him, and he blinked up at it. His spell wisp was back, bobbing up and down in front of him, trying to get his attention. He tried again to suck in a steadying breath and then he heard it. A cough. Not his own, either. Someone else was alive up here. He stilled, waiting to hear it again, needing to be certain he wasn't hearing things over the rush of panicked blood in his ears. He forced himself up to his knees and looked out through the carnage, searching for movement. He heard it again, a ragged broken sounding thing coming from the Harrowing Chamber just above. His gut twisted. Of all the places…

He struggled to his feet, his lungs still flaring with pain, but he had a clear enough mind now to know it was just a panic attack and nothing more and he let some calming magic out over his mind and body, hoping it would hold off the worst of his symptoms. Then he took an unsteady step forward, ignoring the bodies on the ground, then another as he headed toward the staircase that led upwards, determined to save just one more life. He could do it. It wasn't far. The Harrowing Chamber held no demons this time, only memories and a life that needs saving.  _I'm a healer_ , he reminded himself,  _I save people_.  _I can do this_. He repeated it like a mantra, blocking everything else out as best he could as he followed the wisp forwards.

Wind howled in through the broken section of wall, blowing smoke in his face, but he gritted his teeth and continued toward the opened edge of the Tower. Half of the staircase had been blown up too, leaving the steps hanging precariously on the edge of the remaining ground. He took a deep breath as he reached them and took a quick peek over the edge - a peek he immediately regretted, as his stomach flipped once more at seeing the long drop down into the churning fog below. He swallowed thickly and reached out with a trembling hand to test a step before placing his feet on it. Slowly, he made his way up the broken stair case, doing his best to ignore the wind whipping around him, nudging him toward the edge.

When he finally reached the top, he stared, wide-eyed, at the utter destruction around him. Part of the floor was missing, nearest to the missing wall, crumbled away into nothing. Stretching out from the broken wall and ground were cracks in the stone, deep and long, and Anders' entire body tensed at the sight of them. He scanned the room, noticing the silver armour of several dead Templars, and then he spotted him. First Enchanter Irving. He was buried under rubble, a lot of rubble, but he was alive. That would not be the case for much longer if Anders didn't reach him quickly, however.

"Irving!" he called out.

With great effort, the First Enchanter lifted his head, his eyes squinting from the blood trickling into them, but realisation dawned on his face. He opened his mouth to talk but only a wheezing cough escaped his lips and his fact twisted into a grimace.

"I'm coming to get you, just hang on!" Anders shouted across to him.

"No," Irving rasped before coughing again.

"Too late. I came this far; I'm not turning back, knowing that you're alive."

Anders flattened against the wall and slowly shuffled along its edge, doing his best to stay away from the cracks slowly creeping their way further across the weakened stone. With half the wall missing in this room too, wind swirled in, blowing his hair about his face and every creak and groan the Tower made had his breath hitching in his throat.

The First Enchanter watched him, eyes full of worry and his breathing ragged. "The floor will give way," he warned, his voice hoarse. "Go back," he pleaded.

"Sounds like you actually  _want_  me to run for a change," Anders retorted, trying for humour, but his voice was pitched a little higher than usual as fear gripped his throat.

Irving chuckled a little and started to cough violently, gasping for breath. He groaned once the coughing stopped, sighing heavily. "There's no sense in us both dying," he wheezed out.

"A good thing we're both going to live, then. Unless you have other plans, First Enchanter?"

Irving closed his eyes, shaking his head wearily. "Think of Neria. Think of what it would do to her if you died," he said, voice cracking and eyes closing slightly.

"I climbed out of the Tower's window to  _reach_  her. There's not much I won't do to get back to her," he said, smirking even as his chest tightened again. He was doing this for her, for her and Sol. They needed Irving for the new Circle to work. For so long, Anders had done nothing but cause problems for the mages, all because of his own selfishness. For once he would do something right.

"And we're only free and together because of you, Irving," Anders said. "I won't let you die in here." He shuffled along a little further, flat as he could be against the wall at his back. "What were you even doing up here with those Templars anyway?" he asked. Conversation was always a good distraction and he needed to keep Irving awake; he didn't like the way his eyes kept drooping shut.

"They…" He cleared his throat roughly. "They wanted to discuss a Harrowing with me," he said quietly, his words slow and thick. "They were concerned about one of the apprentices." He sighed, his breath wheezy. "I told them, with the veil so thin here now, that I would not permit such a thing."

"And then everything exploded."

He nodded, wincing. "And then everything exploded."

"Do you have any idea who did this?"

Irving shook his head a little. "No," he croaked out. "I can only imagine how many perished… mage and Templar both."

"It certainly wasn't pretty down there."

A massive slab of the ceiling suddenly broke off and crashed down into the centre of the room, and Anders let out a string of curses as he tensed and flattened even closer to the wall. The slab punched a hole straight through the floor in the centre of the room, and the edges around that hole began to crumble away, disintegrating as yet more stone crumbled and fell with a crash. Anders held his breath as the floor continued to be eaten away, but thankfully it stopped short of where Anders and Irving were at the edges of the chamber.

He exhaled heavily, shaking his head. "That was close," he laughed out nervously.

The entire Tower suddenly lurched to the side and Anders was thrown forward onto the crumbling stone in front of him. He had never scrambled backwards so fast in his entire life as the stone began to give out from under him. His back hit the wall and he grimaced as the stones stopped collapsing an inch away from his boots.

"Andraste's knicker-weasels," he hissed, panting.

Irving cried out in pain as the rocks resting on him shifted and it was a few tense moments before he looked back up at Anders, his teeth gritted. "The Tower, it's coming down," he bit out. "Anders, these old bones of mine will never-"

"Would you just shut it and let me save you already?" Anders snapped, his nerves frayed, his entire body singing with adrenaline. He wanted to run. Running was natural for him - the one thing he always fell back on. But he wouldn't do that this time. Not when he was so close to reaching Irving now.

He crawled along the edge of the room, following the curve of the wall, curses flying from his lips every time the Tower shuddered and moved. Irving was right; it was coming down. That thought made him almost giddy,  _almost_  – the fact that he was still inside it while that was happening made it rather less satisfying.

Anders finally reached Irving and began grabbing at the slabs of stone lying on top of him. He tossed the stones down the hole in the centre of the room, not wanting to destroy any more of the limited floor he had left to work with up here. Irving hissed in pain as he carefully removed a slab of stone that had been sitting on his chest, and Anders sent out a wave of healing magic over the man, trying to stop the internal bleeding as much as he could. Irving was in a bad way: a broken arm, several cracked ribs, one of which had punctured a lung, a pretty bad head injury… but he  _could_  survive this,  _if_  they got out of the Tower in time before it all came down around them.

Anders pulled off the final piece of rubble, shouting triumphantly, but that shout was short lived as the Tower shifted violently again, lurching sideways. Anders scrambled unsteadily to his feet, dragging Irving up with him. But they were too late. Anders' stomach jumped into his throat as the Tower began to collapse, giving out from under them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooo sorry about the cliffhanger. Okay. Like. Seriously. There was no good place to leave this. At all. It just gets worse and worse from here on out. *laughs* - kidding! (kinda). 
> 
> I uhh.. hope it was still enjoyable though? 
> 
> You'll note there will be six parts to this finale - all of them are based around the idea of autonomy, at least a bit. And I really am doing my best to wrap up as many plot threads as I can here. Not easy when you have as many characters and plot threads as I do - doesn't help that I am a word whore either ;p. Obviously not ALL plots will be wrapped up. *cough* Chain-Breaker *cough* but that's what the Sequel is for! I hope you're all okay with M!Hawke and Fenris.... 
> 
> And as always, massive thanks to Lys, my beta whom I adore and would be nowhere without.


	67. Finale: Autonomy: Part 2 of 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you guys so much for the comments! You all rock! I'm sorry in advance for the shortness of this update, but I am hoping the content is enough to make up for it. *bites nails in nervous anticipation* 
> 
> Special thanks to Lys for betaing this for me! <3 
> 
> Also, GUYS. I finally posted the Partner Swap fic! It's called _Trading Places_ and you can find it [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5156315/chapters/11873627)
> 
> PLEASE GO READ IT. I mean. If you like my OCs of course. If you don't like Neri or Raf or Max and hate Anders as well.. then... well tbh I'm not sure how you've survived this long into Sacrifices unless you're a super Zev fan just holding out for his return or something... ANYWAY. XD. Kenau! I hope you like it! Seeing as it was entirely your fault it got written at all ;p
> 
> Think that's all I had to say... 
> 
> Hope to see some of you over on the other fic and I hope you enjoy this update! <3

Solona's stomach dropped almost as far as the upper half of the Tower did as it sheared off completely and toppled down into the lake. She winced as it slammed into the water, the splash big enough to see over the fog that clung to the Tower's base. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to not only spill but flood down her face. Maker, she hoped Anders had made it back down the Tower in time… If she hadn't opened that door in such a hurry, if she had waited like he had told her to, she might have gone up the Tower instead of him, might have gone  _with_  him, might have…

The wave smashed into her legs, knocking her back a step. The water was littered with debris: pieces of wood, mostly, but some possessions too; she spotted several floating letters, hairbrushes, teddy bears… She took a shaky breath as the tears finally spilt. There was still smoke pouring out of the broken and jagged top of the Tower, blackening the skies on what had apparently been a clear and sunny day. Even as far away as the shoreline, she could smell the smoke lingering in the air.

With the help of the remaining Templars, she had managed to get the children out, as well as a dozen or so other mages, but so many were still missing.  _Dead_ , her subconscious corrected, painfully. Finn came to stand at her side, apparently done checking the other mages for injury. He squeezed her hand as he stared up at the broken remains of their home.

"I suppose this means we're moving early?" he quipped, trying for levity, but it fell flat and he gave her an apologetic watery smile as a choked sob left her lips. "Right, probably not the best time for jokes."

"Who – who  _did_  this?" Hadley was saying from up the beach as he paced the surf. He looked so small out of his plate – unlike most of the other Templars present who had taken a boat for themselves, Hadley had shrugged out of his armour and swam ashore so that all of the mages, most of whom couldn't swim, could fit in the boats. His white shirt clung to his slim chest, and his hair hung over his forehead making water drip down his face, not that he paid it any mind. "Maker's breath," he muttered. "Acting Knight Commander for less than a week and the Tower gets blown up!" He shook his head, cursing as his hands pushed his hair back. He stared up at the Tower, sighing heavily.

"It must have been that apostate," Rylock spat vehemently. "The Warden, Anders," she clarified. That got Sol's full attention; she glared at the gathering of Templars, her feet already carrying her toward them. "He was giving his lecture on those upper floors, the very floors that got destroyed –  _Templar_  floors. He always hated us, hated the Tower," Rylock rambled, her lip curled in disgust, fists clenched at her side. Hadley was frowning, clearly more sceptical.  _Good_ , thought Sol. Anders would never do something like this.

"Anders didn't do this," Sol argued, coming to a stop in front of the group of Templars. "He's still in there! He went  _up_  the Tower to look for survivors!"

"She's right," Finn confirmed. "He's the only reason most of us made it out of there."

"Yeah, because you're mages," one of the younger mages spoke up resentfully. "He refused to save Heryn. He could have, but he didn't," her voice cracked and she looked down at the ground underneath her bared feet, her toes wriggling in the sand. "He was a good Templar, he saved me, he didn't deserve to die like that," she added quietly.

"Yet more evidence," Rylock said with a nod. "It is well known that these two are friends with the apostate; this could all be a ploy, a trick," Rylock countered looking desperately at Hadley. "We cannot trust the mages;  _clearly_  those explosions were magical."

Hadley shook his head. "We don't know that– we won't know that until we go back to the Tower and examine the damage."

"How convenient; then; that the bomb sites are now underwater," Rylock sniped, running her cold uncaring eyes over Sol and Finn.

"You can't honestly believe he would do this?  _How_  would he?" Finn spoke up, incredulous, his voice pitched higher than usual. "You said it yourself, those were  _Templar_  floors – Anders would  _never_  have been able to plant bombs without you noticing." He started to smirk. "Unless, of course, you're suggesting that the Templars were either incompetent, not watching a visiting apostate mage, or they were accomplices. So which is it?" he asked, chin lifted defiantly.

"You forget one very important possibility, mage," Rylock growled. "Blood magic."

"Oh, so now he used blood magic  _and_  planted bombs, all without anyone else noticing, and all within a few short hours! That's logical," Finn said sarcastically, shaking his head, unimpressed.

"Wardens are known for using such dark magics, and he has had plenty of time with the Order to master such a sickening talent."

"Anders would never use blood magic," Sol countered, her anger making her words come out louder than she had intended. "And none of this could have happened anyway – he was never out of my sight!"

"How reassuring," one of the other Templars commented dryly. "We all know how close you are with the Slayer of the Archdemon – the very one who gave the order for the Tower to be handed over to the mages in the first place. You're probably in cahoots with them," he growled.

"That's just absurd!" Sol hissed. "The new School is nearly complete. Why would the Wardens blow up  _this_ one? Look around you; it wasn't just Templars killed in there!"

"Perhaps that was the plan," Rylock said, stepping toward Sol. "Perhaps they wanted only the younger mages to survive, the ones they could easily influence and control. They'd face no opposition, then, when they began their new Imperium."

"Now Wardens are starting a new  _Imperium!?_ " Sol laughed out. She glanced at Hadley, pleading. "Tell me you see how ridiculous this all sounds?"

Hadley nodded and Sol breathed a sigh of relief. " _All_  will need to be questioned but right now, with Solona and Florian appearing to be the most senior of our surviving mages, we need them in order to go back to the Tower to search for survivors. We must all work together,  _then_  we can find out who did this."

"You would take these mages back to the Tower so that they can further cover their tracks? You must be mad!" Rylock snarled, getting in Hadley's face. He held his ground despite Rylock being both armed and armoured.

"I am still Acting Knight Commander; you will obey me, or I will strip you of your rank, Templar Rylock."

Rylock looked like she wanted to argue back, but one of the little apprentice boys began shouting from down the beach, jumping excitedly.

"Look!" he said, pointing at the lake. "A person!"

Sol's breath hitched as her eyes spotted blond hair and blue robes. " _Anders,_ " she gasped.

She and Finn ran into the surf together, the cold water cooling her flustered skin. She started swimming when the water got too deep, rushing as fast as she could toward Anders. She realised, as she got closer, that he was dragging someone else through the water with him.

"Anders!" she called out.

He glanced over his shoulder, panting hard. "It's Irving," he called back, breathless and looking exhausted.

"Maker," Sol muttered.

She and Finn reached Anders' side, immediately helping him to keep Irving's head above water as they all swam toward the shore together. "Is he going to make it?" Sol asked worriedly as she stared down at the unconscious First Enchanter. She hadn't seen Irving look this sickly since Uldred had… She shook her head; that was the last thing she needed to be thinking about now. They needed to focus on the present, on helping Irving.

"Don't know," Anders breathed.

Together they hauled Irving up the beach, out of the water, and both Anders and Finn immediately began pouring their magic into Irving, frowns of concentration etched deep into their faces, instantly making them both look several years older. Anders' magic was a brighter blue than Finn's; he had always been the better healer, but given how exhausted Anders looked, it was a good thing Finn could aid him. Sol watched on, biting her nails as she stared down at the shallow rise and fall of Irving's chest.

She wasn't sure what his injuries were – a head injury for certain, based on the jagged gash she could see that was only just beginning to bleed again now that the water wasn't constantly washing the blood away. His arms and ankles didn't look too great either, but both mages were focused on the man's chest and abdomen, so Sol assumed the injuries were internal. She wished she was a better healer, but she was only used to healing simple things – at most, she could mend a broken bone  _if_  the break was clean, but that was bloody exhausting.

The other mages had all gathered around, the youngest ones holding onto the eldests' legs and hands; most of them looked terrified, despite everyone's best efforts to reassure them. The Templars, too, were watching carefully; Hadley had his hands in his hair, locked at the back of his head, but Rylock and the other armoured Templars all watched on with steely, cold eyes.

"Shit," Anders suddenly bit out. Sol stared down at him as his magic flared brighter over Irving's chest. "Shit, shit, shit. His heart's stopped." Anders focused his efforts on Irving's heart, letting his magic roll over it, clenching it.

Sol's hand moved to her mouth, covering her quivering lips as more tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Irving had been one of her tutors. For years she had trained under him; he was like a father to her. More than that though, Irving was the only person who Greagoir trusted completely amongst the mages, thus he would be the only one capable of stopping them from all being annulled. Sol had not evacuated as many mages as she had just for them to all be slaughtered,  _especially_  not mere weeks away from them all being given autonomy. Irving couldn't die. He just couldn't.

"Anders…" Finn said softly, having stopped his own spells. He put his hand over Anders', shaking his head. "He's gone."

"No, no, I can save him," Anders insisted shoving Finn's hand away as he poured yet more magic into Irving.

"He's murdered the First Enchanter," Rylock cried out.

"No, he's not gone, I can-"

Rylock grabbed a hold of Anders' hair; the mage cried out, his magic flaring just before she dragged him backwards across the wet sand.

"Get your fucking hands off of him!" Sol screamed as she gave chase.

She'd barely moved a few paces before one of the Templars Silenced her; she fell to her knees, hitting the sand hard as her mana was leeched violently from her. She stared up, snarling, as Rylock drew her sword, pointing it at Sol's face. "Any mage tries to stop us, and it will be the sword you get," she warned. "I won't let Ferelden become another Imperium. I'll make the Chantry act, make them see that this cannot be allowed!" she bellowed, stepping back up the beach, now holding Anders in a chokehold. He struggled against her, clawing at her gauntlets, his legs kicking uselessly in the sand. Rylock brought her pommel down on his temple, dazing him.

"You…You did this," Hadley suddenly said, frowning as he shook his head in disbelief. His expression darkened as he stared at Rylock. "All so that the Templars will be in charge again," he said accusatorily, clearly stunned by the revelation.

Sol felt her own anger bubble up at the realisation, her fists clenching in the sand, grasping at the mana still out of reach.

Hadley's face twisted in anger, and he took a threatening step toward Rylock and the other Templars she had surrounded herself with. "Let go of that mage," he ordered.

"I will do no such thing," Rylock hissed. In the blink of an eye, Rylock had slashed her sword through the air, slicing open Hadley's throat.

Blood sprayed across the sand as it spurted out of his neck.

"The Chantry  _must_  see," Rylock insisted.

Hadley staggered forwards, his hands desperately trying to stem the loss of blood. The children were screaming, wailing behind Sol, but it was only Rylock's words that she heard.

"Kill the rest."

Sol watched as Hadley fell to the ground, dead, landing face first in the dark wet sand. She blinked, everything seemingly moving in slow motion around her as several Templars brought horses down to the beach; Rylock knocked out a wide-eyed and seething Anders before throwing him over one of the horse's backs and then got on herself. A dozen Templars rode off with her, leaving just three on the beach with them. Those Templars came forward, swords drawn.

Sol screamed - and the Fade exploded around her.

* * *

 

" _No, no, no, no, no,_ " Sol muttered, her entire body trembling. This wasn't real, this wasn't happening, she thought, as she stared down at the three smoking corpses of the Templars she had just roasted alive. She had  _known_  the Templars weren't happy. Why hadn't she anticipated something like this? She knew  _everything_  about  _everyone_  in the Tower, but she had missed  _this?_  She shook her head, sobbing.

"Sol!  _Solona!_ " she heard Finn cry from somewhere behind her. She took a deep, if shaky, breath, the air itself smelling like it had been burned by the lightning she had just called forth. She looked over her shoulder and then blinked in confusion.

She stared on blankly as she staggered forward, her mind unable to process what her eyes were showing her. Irving was sitting up, taking slow deep breaths.

"Anders actually did it," Finn said, a small disbelieving smile tugging at his lips.

Solona's chest clenched, her breath hitching and she fell to her knees in front of Irving, tears falling freely down her cheeks. "Child," he croaked and she wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder as he rubbed soothing circles across her back.

"Irving…" she whimpered.

"I know," he said, his voice cracking with grief.

She held him tighter. Still in shock from all that had just occurred. She couldn't believe Irving was alive. But Maker was she ever thankful to Anders for saving him. Now she needed to save  _him_  from Rylock and the others. What a fucking mess.

She took a few deep breaths, knowing that someone here needed to take charge and stay calm, and with Irving exhausted from his ordeal, it wasn't going to be him. She had to be strong for them all. They would get through this. They had to.

"Uhh… Did anyone hear that?" Finn suddenly asked. Sol pulled back, wiping her runny nose as she glanced up at him, frowning.

"Irving!" a distant voice cried, carried to them on the wind. It was so faint Sol was certain she had imagined it, but when she looked out over the lake she could see a boat bobbing up and down on it with a man waving frantically at them all. "Irving!" they called again, and this time both Sol and Irving struggled to their feet.

"Knight Commander Greagoir," Irving said in realisation, his voice hoarse and dry.

Greagoir clambered out of the boat as soon as it was in shallow enough waters and rushed toward them, briefly taking in the carnage on the beach. " _Irving_ ," he said in a breathless rush. "I saw what happened."

Sol let out a relieved cry and she bit down on her lip to stop from openly sobbing again.

"As soon as we saw the Tower fall, we got into the boats, went looking for survivors. I saw Rylock cut down Hadley," he said bitterly as he looked at the Knight Captain's corpse with a mournful shake of his head. Three more Templars reached the shore, stepping slowly out of the boat as they looked around in disbelief. "Why would they do this?" Greagoir asked, the vein in his forehead throbbing with anger.

"She wants the Chantry to be in control again," Sol hastily explained. "She blew up the Tower, tried to frame Anders for it – she's  _taken_  him."

"We must stop them, Greagoir," Irving said slowly, struggling to speak, "or it will be annulment for those few of us who survived this tragedy."

"I won't allow that to happen," Greagoir swore. "There are farm holds not far from here, they have horses." He glanced at Sol. "Anders used them on his last escape."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Sol growled. She stormed off up the beach, not waiting for anyone else. One of the other mages threw a staff at her and she caught it with a determined nod.

"Look after the mages," she heard Greagoir say to the other Templars. "Find some shelter if you can. This won't take long."

_Hold on, Anders_ , she thought as she gritted her teeth, steeling herself for the inevitable fight ahead.


	68. Finale: Autonomy: Part 3 of 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Half way through the finale guys! Thank you so much for the comments - and to those who came over and read the new SMUT I posted. You're awesome <3 *kisses all the wonderful reviewers*. Naturally I must thank ElyssaCousland also for being my beta, you rock. And seeing as we are approaching the end now... I am gonna be begging _pretty_ hard for comments (don't hate me - I just want to hear from as many of you as possible) so PLEASE drop in and tell me what you think - make my day! Have I mentioned it was my birthday yesterday? *is totally shameless with her begging*. So come on. You must have thoughts/opinions/encouragements if you've read THIS far. I will be forever happy if you take the time to let me know what you think before this story reaches the end.
> 
> Alright. With that all said - on with the show!

Nathaniel's nose crinkled as he got a whiff of the Warden at his side. Given the warm temperatures they had been experiencing recently, the smell of Justice's rotting flesh had only worsened. What he wouldn't give to be patrolling with Coline instead of the spirit. She had been gone for months now, but reports had been clear: she was alive, doing better, apparently taking out her rage and guilt on the darkspawn was proving strangely therapeutic. Nathaniel was glad for it. He had wanted to go to the Deep Roads with her, but given how few Wardens remained at the Keep, such a thing simply wasn't possible. Bhelen apparently had them clearing a path to a lost lyrium mine, one that had been left untapped for centuries now. It sounded like hard work; much harder work than simply patrolling the countryside, investigating darkspawn activity and sightings as he was doing now.

Arietta had left him in charge of the Keep and had entrusted him with all her duties: patrols, Keep repairs, negotiations, judgements, trading… all of it. He couldn't help the proud smile that stretched across his face whenever he thought about it. And to think, he had wanted to assassinate her at first.

He got another whiff of Justice and groaned.

"Have you thought any more on the body situation, Justice?" Nathaniel asked as they continued their walk along the sandy trail. They had discussed the possibility of getting him a new body in the past, although nobody really knew how best to handle a situation like that. They weren't merely bodies to Justice, after all.

"I have," the spirit said. "I agree a new body will soon be necessary, but I have yet to find one suitable for possession."

"Suitable? You mean not too decayed or cut up?"

"That too, but I was referring to the unlawfulness of the corpses we come into contact with. I do not wish to possess someone so unjust."

"Ah. So no bandits, murderers, rapists, thieves, smugglers…"

"Correct."

Nathaniel sighed. "You realise you may be searching a while for such a corpse."

"I do, hence my predicament."

Nathaniel stared up at the blood red sky, sighing. It was unusual for them to be out this late, with the sun nearly set, but they didn't have much choice. It was their job to continue patrols, even if that meant going further afield than they might usually go due to a supposed darkspawn sighting - supposed being the key word, seeing as there had been nothing there. And because they had already been gone the whole day, Nathaniel felt the need to press on in order to return before dark, but navigating the narrow forest paths at night was always dangerous.

He was just relieved that sightings such as the one they had investigated today were rare; they had been ever since the Mother's death, no doubt thanks to Neri wiping out almost every darkspawn in the surrounding area. It was possible that Justice would be able to return to the Fade sooner rather than later; he only remained to see the darkspawn threat fully ended on the surface, after all. Still, they did not know how long it would be until the Commander returned, and Nathaniel knew that Justice would want to be able to say his thanks and farewells to her; it would be good if he could do that in a body not ripe and rotten, however.

"Have you considered possessing a living body instead?" Nathaniel asked as he ducked under a low branch.

He felt the spirit's gaze on him, those milky eyes of his boring into the side of Nathaniel's face. "Even if I knew how, I would not possess the living. Such is an act for demons."

Nathaniel stopped to re-tie the laces on his boot, considering. "What if the person was willing, though?" he asked as he finished up the knots.

Justice frowned down at him. "Why would a mortal ever allow such a thing?"

Nathaniel shrugged a shoulder. "For life. For love. Perhaps together you can do what they cannot do alone. If you gave instead of taking, I would consider you no demon."

Justice stared at him for a moment, silent and contemplative. He nodded. "It is… something to consider. Thank you, Nathaniel."

"No problem."

* * *

 

Solona stared into the dark forest with a sigh. "I can't see a damned thing; how are we supposed to find them now?"

Greagoir put a hand on her back, steering her around a tree she hadn't even realised she was about to walk into. "They cannot have gotten far; they won't be able to see much either," he said softly.

They had ridden for much of the day, following the trail Rylock and the other Templars had left behind. But it was getting dark now and the forest, although thin, was still difficult to navigate and so they were steering their borrowed horses through it on foot.

"They definitely came through here," Greagoir whispered. She could just about tell he was crouched down, examining the ground or the plants or something. She often forgot he hadn't always been Knight Commander, at some point he would have been just a Templar. One who likely had to track down escaped mages.

"Come," he said, standing.

She followed him, wincing every time a stick snapped loudly under her feet. She really wasn't very stealthy, at least not  _outside_. The Tower was a different matter; she hadn't become the queen of gossip without doing  _a lot_  of eavesdropping. She swallowed thickly. She still couldn't believe the Tower was just… gone,  _blown up_. Uldred and his ridiculous uprising had been bad enough but now the Templars had proven themselves just as capable of acts of evil as mages were, so long as the cause was just in their eyes, of course.

She hoped Anders was okay; she wasn't entirely sure what the Templars were planning to do with him… but if they hadn't executed him on the spot on the beach then she doubted they would do so in some secluded forest. No, they definitely had plans for him, plans that were probably just as evil as the bomb had been, but it at least meant they had  _time_  to stop them.

Greagoir put a hand out to stop her, lifting his finger to his lips. He pointed ahead and Sol squinted at the trees, but then she saw it – a tiny orange dot: a camp fire. Greagoir took the reins from her and tied both of their horses up.

"How are we handling this?" Sol asked. "You should speak with them first; you might be able to reason with some of them." He tilted his head, watching her a moment and she frowned. "What?"

"You surprised me. I expected you to want to kill the Templars outright for taking your friend."

She scoffed. "Oh, I want to kill them,  _painfully_ , and not just because they have Anders – because they murdered countless mages and Templars, and destroyed the only home most of us have ever known. But if we can get some to fight with us instead of wasting my limited casting time on killing them… then that makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Normally I would agree, but I have no interest in reasoning with murderers. Attack hard and fast. They will think you alone and that is when I shall strike."

Solona crackled her knuckles. "Fine by me."

* * *

 

Briefly, Anders wondered if he had somehow ended up in yet another fire; it would be just his luck, after all, but as he opened his eyes he realised he'd just been dumped, rather unceremoniously if the ache in his hip was anything to go by, on the hard leafy ground in front of a blazing camp fire. He blinked a few times, the brightness of those flames burning his eyes. He was chained up, his arms bound tightly behind his back, his legs no better with his ankles crossed awkwardly, the metal biting into his skin. He wasn't going to be escaping any time soon, that was for sure. By all rights he should be dead already anyway. The fire and smoke should have killed him, but didn't. The Tower crashing into the lake  _definitely_  should have, but didn't either. The Templars probably should have executed him already too but for some bizarre reason they were keeping him alive; captive, but alive. That probably wasn't a good thing.

The same couldn't be said for his friends, they were all dead.  _Slaughtered_. Sol… Finn… all of the young mages, the innocent  _children_. He could still hear their screams ringing in his ears, could still see Sol's disbelieving face as Rylock killed Hadley and ordered the rest of them killed. He squeezed his eyes shut as his rage bubbled inside of him like boiling water. It was always like this, the bloody Templars doing whatever it took to squash the 'mage threat'.  _Children_ , they had murdered terrified children in cold blood. They'd even murdered other Templars in order to carry out their insane plan and, worst of all, they would probably get away with it too. He was seething, shaking with both rage and grief. Would all of this still have happened if he hadn't come to the Tower to give his lecture? He shook his head; that kind of thinking wasn't going to get him out of this mess.

"Quit moving, mage," one of the Templars growled at him, kicking him hard in the spine as he did so. Anders snarled around the gag in his mouth, mentally cursing the bastard as his back throbbed with pain.

"Awake, is he?" Rylock asked, walking closer, her boots rustling against leaves. She suddenly hauled him up into a sitting position and leant down to look him in the eye. "I would say don't take this personally, mage, but you and that elf of yours were always trouble and you got off too easy. This way we get the Chantry back in control, the way it should be, and you get dealt with properly."

_You fucking bitch, you won't get away with this,_  is what he tried to say around the gag but it came out as little more than a muffled snarl. Rylock chuckled. "There's nobody left to dispute our claims," she said haughtily, an arrogant smile accompanying it.

"You sure about that?" a very familiar and surprising voice called out.

Anders felt the tell-tale drop in pressure of a storm brewing and he threw himself to the ground just before bright purple bolts came crashing down from the heavens, blindingly bright as they hit the Templars with a bang. Their faces contorted with silent screams as the electricity surged through them. The purple arcs then jumped through the air, done with the initial three Templars, now seeking out other targets. The crackle of electricity as it arced through the air and the pop as it connected with yet more of the Templars was deafening, and soon the smell of charred flesh and burned metal clung to the air around them.

When the electricity stopped, three were dead, another four badly injured; that still left another seven that Anders could see. More importantly, Rylock was unharmed. He glared daggers at the smug bitch, but she ignored him, her eyes on the treeline. And then Anders heard it, Sol's scream as one of the Templars hit her with a Silence and another with a Smite. He cursed around the gag in his mouth. What had Sol been thinking? Coming out here  _alone?_  She didn't stand a chance. How had she even survived the beach? Or caught up with him?

Rylock glanced down at him, arrogance radiating off of her. "You can watch another of your friends die now," she said, just as Sol was thrown to the ground next to him.

Sol's breath hissed out through clenched teeth as she tried to breathe through the pain.

"A nice attempt," Rylock commented idly, a smug smile still plastered across her face. "You always were a feisty one."

Sol glanced up at Rylock, her black hair wild and untamed around her face, her blue eyes dark and seething. "He's going to wipe that smug look right off your face," Sol bit out.

Anders had only a moment to frown in confusion before one of the other Templars was cursing and scrambling across the ground to pick up his sword, having apparently dropped it during Sol's attack. And then Anders saw why. Walking with deadly intent out from the trees, sword glinting in the firelight, was Knight Commander Greagoir. The other Templar grabbed his sword and swung it desperately at Greagoir but the Knight Commander parried the blow easily and then plunged his sword into the man's chest.

"A disgrace to the Order, all of you," Greagoir said calmly as he dragged the blood soaked blade back out of the man gasping for breath below him. Anders had expected anger or fury from Greagoir, but he didn't think he had ever seen the man look so composed, so calm. It was bloody terrifying. The other Templars seemed to think so too if the way they all froze dumbly at the sight, glancing nervously to one another, none of them moving. It was Rylock who took the first step forward however, growling.

"You are the disgrace, Knight Commander. You are the one who's forgotten the Maker's words, who's put his duty aside and allowed mages to rule," she said accusingly, her eyes dark with disgust. "Join us or die."

Greagoir eyed them coolly, his sword and shield in hand; Anders could see the subtle shift in his posture, the squaring of his shoulders, the lifting of his chin, the arch of his back. "So be it," he said, raising his sword.

The first of the Templars charged, and so began the dance of battle, accompanied by the ring of steel on steel. The Commander dodged seamlessly between targets, letting them come at him as his sword parried with elegant ease. Anders had never really seen Greagoir fight; the man devoted so much of his time to glaring at things Anders wasn't certain he was actually any good at anything else. But Anders had to admit that Greagoir was a damned good fighter; he fought with precision, every move he made controlled and deliberate. The other Templars were less graceful, however, some fearful and desperate, others cocky and sure of themselves, thinking they had the Knight Commander well and truly outnumbered and on the defensive. Their smug superciliousness only increased as they pressed the Commander back toward the treeline with the sheer quantity of swipes and jabs, none of them hitting home, of course; Greagoir was too fast, his shield arm too strong. Their arrogance soon vanished when the Commander finally whirled on them with the full fury of his anger; he was a silent storm, a controlled rage as he cut the nearest Templar near in half. Greagoir didn't even wait for the pieces of that Templar to hit the ground before advancing on the next man, putting them all on the retreat.

"Anders," Sol whispered, looking wild with the flames from the fire dancing across her eyes. "The others are alive – even Irving, you saved him," she said, her gaze locked with his, "but they're not coming. It's just us three against all of these Templars."

He stared at her, frowning. That couldn't be – they were alive,  _all_  of them? He wanted to grin and laugh in relief but that would be a very bad idea with Rylock standing not so far away. Sol waved her hand in front of his face and then pulled out the gag in his mouth. He blinked at her. "Are you listening?" She frowned in annoyance, her dark brows pulled tightly together. "Greagoir won't be able to handle them all on his own," she said slowly, like he was too dazed still to catch on. "Have you got any mana left?"

He swallowed, his mouth dry, and nodded. "Some."

She gave him a dangerous-looking smile. "Then I'll find the key. Be ready." She crawled over to one of the Templars that she had practically turned to ash and began searching for the key to his chains. Rylock remained where she was, her eyes fixed on the fight. So far she had stayed out of it, watching with narrowed eyes as her hand clenched and unclenched around her sword's hilt; she was probably waiting for Greagoir to be injured before stepping in. The bitch; she even used her own Templars as fodder.

Greagoir cut down yet another Templar, chopping his head clean off in the process, before he spun on a Templar trying to sneak up behind him, bringing his sword across that Templar's gut. His next swing took another across the neck and then his shield was up again, anticipating the sword strike from the Templar rogue now behind him.

Anders glanced back at Solona, watching as she desperately searched her second corpse, taking longer than she might normally due to her trembling hands; she knew all too well how poorly things would end for them both if Greagoir fell. But Anders seriously doubted that with what little mana he had that he would be able to turn the tide of battle all that much. He might get lucky and take down one or two Templars, at most, before he got hit with a Silence or a Smite. All their hope rested on Greagoir's tense and well plated shoulders.

It was Greagoir's leg however that got skewered first. He'd done well, really, to last this long against such a large group, but his cry of anguish was no less depressing to hear. Anders watched as the arrogant youth yanked his sword back out of Greagoir's calf with a smirk. Greagoir hissed in pain but did not fall, instead backing up towards the trees, gritting his teeth, his shield still held high. The Templars closed in like a pack of wild dogs, sensing the end, but Greagoir just glowered at them, breathing hard and refusing to go down without a fight.

And then Anders felt the Fade crackle around them. The Templars noticed it too, all looking around in confusion. Anders found himself looking over to Sol, wondering if it was her with her mana back, but she was staring up looking just as baffled as he by the sudden disturbance in the veil. And then the booming righteous voice of Justice was echoing through the clearing.

"You will never hurt another mage again!"

A blast of pure Fade energy slammed into the Templars that had been closing in on Greagoir, throwing them all backwards to crash into the ground just as Justice walked determinedly out of the treeline. Anders had never seen Justice look this angry; the ethereal light of the Fade poured out of him, making him glow a blinding white as he stormed forwards. Greagoir leaned back against a tree, eyes wide as he stared at the spirit.

Justice turned to him, the Fade rippling and cracking around him. "These are your men; what do you wish to do with them?" the spirit asked.

Greagoir swallowed, his bushy brows drawn down in a scowl but they soon lifted, his jaw tightening. "Execute them," was all he said as he pushed up from the tree, ready to fight once more.

"Kill them!" Rylock screeched to the Templars still scrambling back to their feet, hastily retrieving their fallen weapons.

The fight began again in a blur.

Justice surged forward, his fury burning like a physical thing around him. He had opted for a massive two handed greatsword, the blade almost as long as he was tall, glowing just like Justice as the Fade rippled and bent around him. The Templars sent out desperate smites and silences at the spirit but they were too weak, the Templars not focusing enough in their panic, and Justice merely shrugged them off, calling upon even more power from the Fade as he charged full force into the group. He was a whirlwind, untouchable, half in the Fade and half out of it. Two Templars fell instantly, cut in half, the others knocked back by yet another one of Justice's impressive discharges of raw magic. Greagoir charged in after him, limping heavily. He buried his sword in one of the fallen Templars, twisting it, muttering for the Maker to judge them justly. And then he was moving again, fighting at Justice's side

"Got them!" Solona suddenly hissed, crouched over a Templar corpse, keys in hand. Rylock wheeled on her. "Shit," Sol muttered as she hurried back to her feet. Rylock growled in response and advanced on her, sword drawn, held out to the side threateningly. As the Templar swung, Sol dived to the side, throwing herself to the ground. The keys went flying from her hands and Sol's eyes went wide as she cursed. She crawled frantically across the rustling leaves, but Rylock grabbed her and tossed her to the side, knocking her on her back. Sol grit her teeth, biting down her cry in response. And then Rylock's sword was against her pale throat and Sol stilled, holding her breath as she waited for the end. Anders' heart clenched, panic surging through him. He had already thought her dead once today. He couldn't –  _she_  couldn't… He wouldn't let her die again!

"I take no satisfaction in this," Rylock said, looking down at her. "But I must make the Chantry see, no matter the cost." She pulled her sword back, ready for the kill, making Sol squeeze her eyes shut.

"I'll confess to it!" Anders screamed. Rylock turned to look at him, head tilted and eyes narrowed. "I'll confess," he repeated, panting. "I'll tell the Chantry I blew it up, just… just don't kill her, please."

Rylock's lip twisted into a sadistic smirk. "Oh, you'll confess alright; once we make you Tranquil you'll do anything we say." Anders' blood ran cold but Rylock paid him no mind as she turned back around and lifted her sword.

Anders heard the whistle first, the whizz of an arrow flying through the air, and then Rylock was staggering backwards with an arrow in her shoulder. She stared down at it, lips twisting into a sneer, then yanked it out with a hiss as she threw the bloodied arrow to the ground. She looked up as Nathaniel stepped out of the treeline, bow aimed at her head, his expression grave.

"Surrender," he growled, standing protectively over Sol. "I won't warn you again."

That supercilious smirk was back on Rylock's face. "I was hoping my little darkspawn sighting would work. It makes my story look that much more authentic that two Wardens were close to the scene of the crime."

Nathaniel looked like he wanted to ask  _what crime?_  but Rylock didn't give him time to; she brought the visor on her helm down and charged. Nathaniel fired his arrow as he leapt backwards but it bounced harmlessly off of Rylock's armour. Sol rolled out of the way just in time as Rylock barrelled past her, intent on running Nathaniel through with her sword; he was too quick-footed, however and easily dodged out of the way, kicking the keys toward Anders in the process. Bound as he was, he didn't waste a minute as he crawled toward the keys, reaching them just as Nathaniel and Rylock began their dance of death. Anders knew Nathaniel would struggle against such a well-armoured foe, and with Greagoir and Justice still otherwise engaged on the other side of the camp, it was going to be up to Anders to help him.

Anders wriggled onto his side, searching through the leaves behind him for the keys; he felt metal and grabbed at it. He'd had a lot of practice at unlocking cuffs, but he still fumbled with the damn things, distracted as he was, watching as Nathaniel narrowly ducked under Rylock's swing. He was just trying to get the key in the hole when he felt Solona suddenly at his back. She freed him easily and he sighed in relief as he clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to get rid of the pins and needles now creeping across his skin. Sol unchained his legs next and they shared a look.

"End her," Sol hissed. Anders nodded and surged to his feet with a spell at his lips.

Nathaniel's bow snapped as he used it to block a blow from Rylock. He cursed as he rolled out of the way, drawing a small hunting knife with a snarl instead. He crouched low to the ground, grey eyes narrowed as he waited for Rylock to come at him. Her haughty feminine laughter echoed around the clearing as she closed in for the kill.

And then Anders unleashed fire upon the bitch.

The flames rushed forward, coating, covering and enveloping her. She screamed, hunching over, her sword dropping from her hands as the flames washed over her armour, superheating it. She fell to her knees with an agonised cry, her wailing, ear-piercing scream enough to curdle blood. But then she seemed to gather herself, throwing her arm into the air; the blast of energy washed over them all, spreading out around her in a ring, dousing the flames still licking at her amour as she cleansed the area of magic. Rylock's arms were shaking as she lifted them to her charred helm, placing her gauntleted hands on the edges of it as she slowly lifted it up. She screamed, and Anders had to look away as Rylock peeled her helm off of her head, the skin on her face tearing as she did so. Sol gagged next to him and then she was retching onto the ground, horrible dry heaves racking her body. Rylock hissed through her teeth as the helm finally came clear of her head; she tossed it to the ground with an agonised grunt. Her face was… it had  _melted_. It was red and oozing, with flaps of her torn skin hanging down in places, her eyes practically sealed shut, her lips singed off. Nathaniel, just like Anders, stood there, staring, horrified.

Greagoir suddenly appeared at the archer's side, limping, sweating and breathing hard but alive. He put his hand on Nathaniel's shoulder, shaking his head slightly, and the rogue nodded and sheathed his knife, leaving Greagoir to walk forward to face Rylock.

"Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him," Greagoir said, voice even, to the wheezing woman at his feet. "You forget that it applies in equal measure to Templars. We cannot let our fear or hatred of magic rule us, as you have done." He shook his head solemnly. "For years I have tried to show you that mages are people, the Maker's children, but you never could see."

"I did my duty," she gargled out, almost choking on the words, self-righteous to the end.

"No. You have shamed the Order and yourself. The Maker will judge you now." There was a flash of silver as Greagoir's sword severed Rylock's head from her body. The melted and bloodied head rolled across the ground, landing at Sol's feet, and she turned away, retching again.

"You couldn't even give a simple lecture without getting into trouble," Nathaniel said wryly, shaking his head as he walked over to Anders' side.

"The lecture went fine,  _thankyouverymuch,_  it was everything after that went horribly."

"What exactly  _did_  happen?" Nathaniel asked as he picked up the broken pieces of his bow with a frown.

That had been his grandfather's bow, Anders realised and he felt momentarily sorry for the man. It was one of the few things he had left of his grandfather, after all - it would be like Anders losing his mother's pillow; thankfully that was safe and sound at the Keep.

"It's a long story," Anders sighed wearily.

"I'll need to head back to the lake," Greagoir announced; he glanced at Nathaniel and Justice. "Thank you for the assistance." Both men merely nodded. He glanced at Anders, "Do you have mana enough to heal this?" he asked, looking down at his calf.

Anders nodded. "Just about." He crouched down in front of the Templar and focused on drawing upon his recovering reserves until green light flared from his fingertips and washed over the deep wound. "It won't be totally healed, but it should be enough to get you back to the lake for Finn to heal the rest."

"Thank you," Greagoir said sincerely.

"I figure it's the least I can do," Anders said, smirking, making Greagoir grunt.

"There. That's all I've got," Anders said as he carefully stood back up, feeling a little woozy.

Greagoir stretched the leg, smiling a little and dipped his head to him in thanks, then glanced at Solona. "Come, let us make haste."

She sighed. "Yes, yes, I'm coming."

"You don't have to," Anders said quickly. "You could join the Wardens, I mean."

The look Greagoir gave Anders was livid and Solona hesitated in front of him. She shook her head, blue eyes sad. "The Circle needs me Anders, now more than ever." She wrapped her arms around Anders' neck, hugging him tightly. "I'm glad you're safe. Stay out of trouble."

"No promises," he replied, smiling.

She pulled back, snorting derisively. "Yeah, you'll never stay out of trouble," she scoffed.

He smiled. "Thank you, by the way, for coming to my rescue."

She grinned. "Someone had to save your stupid ass from yet more Templars. Honestly, Anders, you're a fucking damsel in distress sometimes."

He chuckled. "I certainly don't mind being saved by beautiful women."

She leant in and kissed him on the cheek. "You just make sure you get back to the other beautiful woman in your life in one piece."

Anders watched her and the Knight Commander head back through the forest together before he glanced at the two Wardens watching him expectantly. " _Right_ ," Anders said. "Explanations."

* * *

 

Anders could see Justice bubbling with anger as he explained all that had happened, so he wasn't surprised in the least when the spirit began ranting about how unjust it all was. Wisely, Nathaniel slipped away, muttering about hunting down some food seeing as Anders was still feeling weak.

"This cannot be allowed to continue," Justice seethed, shaking his head.

"Well, Sol seems hopeful that the new Tower will be different," Anders commented, unconvinced. "So things might be better, at least here in Ferelden."

"And what of every other Circle, of all of the Templars imprisoning mages and then abusing them?" Justice asked accusingly, eyes narrowed at him.

"What about them?" Anders replied grouchily, the exhaustion from the day's events making him more irritable than usual.

"You harbour so much hatred toward the Templars, and yet you do nothing to stop them, to help your fellow mages." Anders didn't very much like the contemptuous tone the spirit was taking with him.

"Oh yes, silly me for not dropping everything as soon as I was out of the Tower to incite rebellion and free mages," Anders snarked petulantly.

"Revolutions do not begin overnight," Justice countered. "The fires of rebellion are ignited one flame at a time. If you cannot work to free mages, then work instead to change people's opinions of them – heal, teach the illiterate, show them that magic need not be feared."

"It's just… not that simple," Anders said lamely, unable to find a suitable excuse; it wasn't that he didn't want to help, it just sounded difficult. Arietta was the Queen of Ferelden and Neri the Slayer of the Archdemon, and yet it had still been an uphill battle just to grant the Circle autonomy; that 'peaceful' solution had  _still_ resulted in countless deaths. An open rebellion would be so much worse.

"It is," Justice urged. Sometimes the spirit could be so naïve with his clear cut morality and poor understanding of time; he always wanted to act  _now_ , never willing to wait. Anders squeezed the bridge of his nose, exhaling roughly.

"If you're so bloody keen to go help, then why don't you? I'm sure an actual spirit from the Fade could change a few people's minds about mages and abominations."

"Would such a thing…" Justice shook his head, seemingly thinking better of such an idea. Well, Anders thought, at least he's got some common sense; he'd scare people half to death if he turned up looking like he did right now with the rotting skin and milky eyes. The spirit was quiet for a long time after that as they walked along the forest path.

"What if… what if we worked together?" Justice suddenly asked. Anders glanced at him, noticing the way in which the spirit fidgeted as he walked. Was he  _anxious?_

"Isn't that what we do already?" Anders asked, frowning slightly.

"I meant as a stronger partnership, one where we combine our efforts in order to help those being unjustly treated."

Anders laughed. "So what, we go around together helping the poor and the downtrodden? I'm not sure people would  _want_  help from an apostate mage and a walking, talking corpse, Justice. It's a nice idea though."

"What if I was no longer in a corpse?"

Anders narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the spirit. "If you're eyeing up my cat again…"

Justice shook his head, staring at the ground. He stopped walking and Anders turned to look at him, frown deepening. The spirit looked up at him, expression uncertain.

"Would  _you_  consider being my host?"

Anders stared at him, mouth open, feeling very much like he'd just been slapped in the face. Did he really just…?

"Think of all we could achieve together," Justice continued quickly. "The power we would share, the drive to do good, the will to do more, Anders. Together we could bring about  _real_  change, so no mage is ever ripped from their mother's skirt again, so that Templars can no longer abuse their charges without punishment, so that no mage has to live with the threat of Tranquility looming over their heads. I can see it in your eyes - you want those things, but you are one man, avoiding the oppression all around him. Together we could be more,  _achieve_  more."

Anders stared at Justice in stunned silence. What Justice said rang true; Anders  _did_  want those things, of course he did! Neri had been abused for years in the Tower and Anders doubted that even had he known about it, he would still have been able to stop it. The Templars held all the power, they always had, but Ferelden was proof that such a thing might not always be the case. Although he still had doubts it would last. What Justice wanted… this mage rebellion, it was something Anders had only ever dreamt about, quite foolishly so, he had thought. But he had to admit it did sound tempting. He considered Justice a friend, as odd as that sounded, and he could see just how much Justice wanted to help, to make a difference. But he would never be able to do that alone, just as Anders would never be able to incite a rebellion alone either. He was just some mage, a Warden; he was supposed to stay out of those sorts of things, and after today he couldn't help but want to stay well clear of all of that. But it was Neri that had his mind made up. She needed him, needed all of him, devoted to  _her_ , not some hopeless cause.

He gave Justice a weak smile, his shoulders slumping with regret. "Justice… I can't. I'm sorry. Maybe if things were different…. If I wasn't with Neri, but I can't, not when she needs me, when she's the most important thing in my life. I know that's selfish, but love  _is_  selfish."

"Say no more," Justice said lifting his chin, trying to hide the dejection. "It was only a thought. Come, let us return to the Keep." He marched off down the path before Anders could say more and he sighed, following in step behind him, wondering what could have been if they had joined together with hopes of changing the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha ha. Yes, Anders, I _wonder_ what would happen if you joined with Justice... 
> 
> This was probs my worst kept secret, not gonna lie. But I'd still like to hear what you think of the change from canon. Hell. I want to hear what you thought of the fight and everything else in this one. I can never tell if my fights are exciting or not. *shrugs* 
> 
> And with _that_ being said, my thoughts go out to all those in Paris tonight. Fuck terrorism. They can all get rammed up the arse by a dreadnought sized dildo.


	69. Finale: Autonomy: Part 4 of 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anders finale! Also happens to tie in nicely to the Anders POV chapter of Trading Places I am posting tonight if you happen to fancy some more Anders fix... ;)
> 
> Thank you guys for the comments! Please keep them coming. Can't believe how close we are to the "end" now - "end" because the sequel is fucking massive and never ending and I will weep the day it's _actually _done.__
> 
> __As always, huge thanks to Lys as well for the beta <3_ _

Anders sighed in relief as the Keep's silhouette finally came into view against the starry sky. The walk back from the forest had been painfully awkward ever since Justice had asked to merge with him. Anders actually felt guilty about it, too, which was just absurd; Justice had wanted to  _possess_  him, he shouldn't be feeling guilty about saying no to such a thing! Yet, it wouldn't really have been possession, would it? It would have been a mutually beneficial partnership. The risk, though, was too great, with neither of them knowing how such a thing would work or what it would do to them both. And he simply couldn't do that to Neri. But the awkwardness between himself and the spirit had been noticeable enough for even Nathaniel to ask what they had discussed while he had been hunting.

" _Oh, you know, the usual: revolutions, mages, Templars, him possessing me…"_  Anders had replied offhandedly.

Nathaniel had stared at him, surprised for a moment before he had frowned. " _Normally, I wouldn't take such a flippant statement seriously, but seeing as Justice and I discussed possessing a living host earlier-"_

" _Oh, so that was your wonderful idea, was it?"_  Anders had snarked back.

After all of that, the long silent walk had left Anders feeling more exhausted than ever as the events of the day finally began to catch up with him. He didn't think he had felt this tired for a long time; all he wanted was his bed, but he knew he would need to speak with Varel immediately so that he could inform the King of just what had transpired at Kinloch Hold.

They trudged up the hill, all of them exhausted. "I never thought I'd be this relieved to see the Keep again," Anders admitted. "As soon as we're done talking to Varel, I am falling straight into bed."

"Nice for some," Nathaniel replied. "I'll probably be up all night doing paper work thanks to the mess you managed to get yourself into."

Anders snorted. "Olivia and Lenny are the ones that suggested I go to the Tower; blame them."

"Oh I will, just as soon as I'm done blaming you."

Anders chuckled. "You're lucky I lived, Howe; Neri would have killed you and everyone else at the Keep if I had died while she was away."

Nathaniel smiled slightly. "Instead, she's going to kill  _you_  for nearly dying on her."

Anders sighed. "She really is."

"For what it's worth," Nathaniel said, "I'm glad you're not dead."

Anders smirked. "For what it's worth, thanks for coming to our rescue."

"Like you said, it's not like I had much of a choice; death by force or blood magic would not be pleasant."

"You did take your sweet time coming out of that treeline, though," Anders teased.

Nathaniel shook his head wearily. "Justice charged off without me, without even explaining what he had heard or sensed," he explained.

"Oh, I thought it was just because you wanted to look like the daring hero in front of Sol."

Anders could practically hear Nathaniel's eyes roll as they pushed the Keep's doors open. Justice marched on ahead of them, straight toward the offices at the centre of the Keep. Anders doubted even Varel was still up at this hour, but he would have lost money if he had betted on that. Light poured out through the cracks in the door, and when they knocked and entered Varel's office, they found the man poring over some papers with a single candle flickering wildly at his desk, close to burning out completely.

He smiled upon seeing them all returned, but his expression quickly faded away as he realised something had clearly happened. "Let us hear it, then."

"Kinloch Hold was blown up," Nathaniel said gravely.

"Maker's-" Varel shook his head, scowling. His gaze snapped to Anders. "While you were  _there_?"

"Yes."

He swallowed thickly, eyes wide, and then perched against his desk. "Then tell me everything."

…

Anders had explained the bare minimum before leaving Nathaniel and Justice to fill Varel in with the rest. He needed sleep; he was barely able to keep his eyes open. He closed his bedroom door behind him, stripped out of his clothes and fell face first onto his bed.

He still couldn't believe the Tower was gone. He couldn't believe he had nearly been gone  _with_  it. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to think about it all too much, but his body jerked violently as his mind conjured up images of the Tower tipping to the side, of Irving and him falling, weightless, down toward the lake. Of the water that surged forward upon impact. Of the way the Tower's walls and ceiling crumbled around them. Of the way he tried to get his bearings in the darkness with debris all around them, with the currents churning, knocking them about, of losing his grip on Irving in the chaos. Of diving desperately lower, searching for him, his little spell wisp the only source of light. Of finally seeing Irving. Of his spell wisp sputtering out when he lost focus, desperate for air. Of grabbing Irving, sending one final blast of magic downwards, pushing them up as he swam for the surface. Of finally sucking in a deep breath, still holding onto Irving, trying to keep his head above water. Of staring up at the smoking Tower, the top half sheared clean off, other parts still crumbling into the lake around him making the water choppy and hard to swim through.

Pounce was suddenly at his side, nuzzling against him. The cat licked the tears from Anders' cheeks and Anders smiled, stroking the cat as he tried to get his breathing back under control. But still the thoughts swam around his mind. So many had died, and the Templars had nearly gotten away with it. Had nearly made him  _Tranquil_. Images of Neri returning to the Keep, to the chaos of what had happened, a war all around her as nobles and free-folk all blamed the Wardens and called for their rule to end, of her walking through the crowds, eyes only for him and the mark on his head. Of the tears on her cheeks and the knife she would pull out of her belt. He shuddered. He wished she was here now; no, more than that, he wished she had been at the Tower with him. She would have fucking  _destroyed_  those Templar bastards.

He realised he was trembling, and he pulled the blankets over him, sighing.  _Get a grip, you need to sleep_ , he scolded himself. He pulled Pounce closer and was relieved when the cat happily snuggled up close to him.  _It will all be fine_ , he told himself over and over as sleep slowly took him.

…

"All is not well," Varel said grimly. Anders sighed; he had been far too optimistic in asking Varel how things were. "Despite you stopping the Templars, rumours still circulate about the Warden's involvement in the Tower's destruction. You were seen by many heading to the Tower. Some even recognised you as an apostate who had helped them in the past, one who had spoken poorly of the Tower to them."

"Oh come on, that was years ago and they were more than happy to tell the Templars they hadn't seen me then while I healed their aching backs or helped them through labour."

"You know how quickly opinions can change," Varel replied sadly. "It is possible the Templars were working with some of the scorned nobles in this arling, and that those nobles are trying to oust the Wardens and seize power themselves. While the Mages, Templars, Crown and Chantry decide what happens next with the Circle, we remain in a precarious situation. Our Keep is weak, our walls still broken, and many of our soldiers remain in Amaranthine. Recalling them now would send the wrong message, a message that we are readying ourselves for war, and we cannot have that. But we also would not stand against an attacking force; even mobs of angry townsfolk could do a great deal of harm to us." There was a long pause and Varel's shoulders slumped slightly. "Nathaniel and I have discussed the situation and both of us agree that it would be best if you leave, at least for a while, until Neri and the Commander return."

" _Leave?_ "

"If I am correct and it is indeed the nobility stirring up trouble for us, you would be an excellent hostage - or target - for them to use. I cannot allow that to happen; for one, Neri would kill me."

Anders scoffed. "She wouldn't  _actually_  kill you," he said. "I don't think…"

"I would rather not risk it. They have used you in their plans once; now that you survive there is little stopping them from using you again."

"So? I can just stay away from them."

"Anders, you do not have the best record of staying free."

He scoffed. "From  _Templars_."

"And more could come for you; we do not know how the rest of the Order feels about what happened, not yet."

"Doesn't fleeing kind of paint me as guilty, though?"

"It likely will, yes. But to those outside our walls right now, you already are. And they are the current threat. Having you here may incite them to violence: violence we have no forces to deal with. We could lose the Keep."

Anders sighed. "Where am I supposed to go?"

"You have a few options…We have another Warden Keep up in the mountains-"

"With that crazy blood mage? No."

Varel sighed. "There's work in the Deep Roads you could also-"

"Really? You're just going to ship me off like you did Coline? In case you haven't noticed, that didn't solve much; people are still angry."

"I'm well aware, and it's possible it's yet another thing the scorned nobles could be using to turn people against us." He rubbed a hand along his jaw. "But Anders, now really is not the time to be picky. I would suggest helping at the new Circle… but even I do not trust the Templars after this."

"Good, because I wouldn't want to go stay in a Circle ever again. Visiting for the day was bad enough, and that was  _before_  it blew up."

"And I cannot send you to Jader because of an  _incident_  the Wardens were involved in there."

"What incident?" he asked, frowning.

"It's fine, they're all fine. I would just rather not send more Wardens there so soon."

"What about Cumberland then? Neri has to go back through the city, right? I could wait for her."

"You could," Varel agreed. "I have no way of knowing when Neri and the others will reach the city, however. It may be a long wait, on your own, unless you have friends in Cumberland, or another city near it?"

"Of course I don't; all of my friends were just blown up."

Varel lowered his head, eyes closed mournfully. "What of Neri?"

"She… has friends in Kirkwall. As do I, actually."

"That is not far from Cumberland; I would feel better about you staying with friends than I would sending you a city of that size alone. I can also send word to Neri and the others in hopes that they have not yet reached Cumberland. Then Neri could take ship straight to Kirkwall to get you, assuming everything has calmed down by then, of course. Would that be acceptable to you?"

Anders scowled. "Maybe… but Kirkwall's Templars aren't exactly known for being mage friendly."

"Then stay out of their way," Varel said, jaw set.

"Ser-Pounce-A-Lot isn't going to like boats," Anders groused, pouting.

"It may be best to leave the cat here then. You won't be gone for long; only until the situation here is calmer and Nathaniel and I have weeded out the nobles responsible for the rebellion now on our doorstep."

Anders nodded miserably. "I'll go get my things."

"Justice has offered to escort you to the Docks; he will be waiting at the back gate for you."

" _Wonderful_ ," Anders said sarcastically as he headed to the door.

"And Anders," Varel said, "I am sorry."

"Me too," Anders sighed as he pulled the door open and walked out.

He packed a bag quickly, grabbing his mother's pillow, a few potions and herbs, his staff and coat. Then he picked up the cat stalking between his legs, rubbing his head against him.

"Who's a good kitty?" he cooed. "You are, yes you are. You're going to have to be a good boy and stay here while daddy goes away for a little while," he said as he nuzzled poor Ser Pounce. The cat just meowed in response.

He headed down the stairs with Pounce in his arms and found Nathaniel waiting for him at the bottom of the steps. "You're off then?" the archer asked.

"Seems that way, yeah," Anders replied. "I need you to look after Ser Pounce while I am gone."

Nathaniel frowned. "Anders, why do  _I_  have to look after him?"

"I don't trust Justice not to free him; for the last two months, all I've heard out of him is  _that cat is a slave_ ," he said in his best Justice voice, smiling crookedly.

"There are staff here who could-"

"Oh shut it, I know you like him."

Nathaniel's expression remained stony for a brief moment before he sighed, shoulders sagging, and begrudgingly stroked Pounce's head, a small smile twitching at his lips. Anders handed Pounce over to him.

"Alright. He eats twice a day; usually he prefers the wet stuff, tuna is his favourite. He doesn't mind chicken either but he usually likes that dry - the chef in the kitchen knows just how he likes it. Now and again he's allowed a few treats and he's always sniffing around the table for scraps – do  _not_  let Oghren give him any of his "spiced chicken", those are  _not_  spices. And he likes a groom in the morning with the big soft brush - it's in my room; there's also a hard toothed comb to get rid of any matted hair."

"Anders…"

"He  _shouldn't_  need a bath while I'm gone, but if he does, there's an apricot shampoo in my room – that's his favourite – if that runs out, though, there's also a vanilla one that he doesn't mind. His favourite toy is the string mouse; you should play with him at least once a day, but he also likes the jingly ball-"

"Anders."

"He'll probably sleep on your pillow… but he doesn't shed much, so unless you're very allergic, it should be okay."

"Maker's breath, man. It will be fine."

Anders sighed. He leaned in and kissed Pounce on the head. "I'll miss you, yes I will, oh yes I will."

"Justice is waiting; go."

"Yes, I heard he's  _escorting_  me," Anders said, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Was that your doing?"

"I have work to do here but wanted to ensure you safely reached your destination," Nathaniel replied, shrugging. His lips twitched slightly. "I also didn't think it would hurt for the two of you to talk."

"Fine. See you around, Howe."

"Stay safe, Anders."

He headed out through the gardens and found Justice waiting by the hidden door in the Keep's wall. Justice nodded to him as he approached. "Where is it we are going then?" the spirit asked.

"The docks," Anders replied. "I'll be taking ship to Kirkwall. Charming place."

Justice nodded again, and they headed out through the gate, making sure to seal it back up with ivy once they were through. It was a cloudy morning, not cold but not warm either. Anders could hear the rabble at the Keep's entrance, all of them demanding answers; he pulled his hood a little lower over his face, not wanting to be seen.

They walked in silence for much of the way; it was only as they neared the city that Anders relaxed a bit, convinced the rabble wasn't going to come hunt him down. "So, what are you going to do about the body situation now?" he asked the spirit.

"Unless you know of any willing hosts… a corpse seems the only other option."

"You could ask the mages at the Circle," Anders joked.

"Would they agree to such a thing?" Justice asked back, all too seriously.

"That was a joke, Justice," he said sighing. "Now  _really_  isn't the time to possess mages at the new School."

"You're right; I doubt the Templars would take kindly to witnessing such a thing."

"You can say that again," Anders said darkly.

"…You're right; I doubt-"

Anders let out a snorted laugh. "I didn't mean…" He sighed. "Maybe it's better if you don't possess something living; it might change you, and, well, I rather like you just the way you are."

"I will keep that in mind," Justice said. "What of you? Why is Kirkwall your destination of choice?"

"Neri knows people there, and so do I. My…friend, Karl, he was sent to the Circle there, the Gallows, after we were both Harrowed."

Justice looked at him, his milk eyes suddenly curious. "Do you plan to free him from the Templars' grasp?"

Anders laughed. "I wouldn't even know how to go about doing something like that."

"You escaped seven times from Kinloch Hold; would it truly be so difficult to free another?"

"The Gallows are the most guarded Circle in all of Thedas. Besides, I only escaped Kinloch Hold so often because I  _lived_  there. I knew the Templars and patiently watched and planned each escape. I wouldn't be able to do that in Kirkwall."

"You could try."

"I would have to be a Circle mage again to get that level of information."

"Not necessarily."

Anders sighed. "It's all moot anyway. I'm supposed to stay out of trouble until Neri comes and gets me. The last thing I want is for her to come rescue me from yet more Templars," he said wincing slightly; he didn't need to give Sol more fodder for her theory of him being a damsel in distress. He sighed. "She'll be mad enough at me as is."

"No, she will be relieved to see you alive."

Anders smiled.

…

They reached the Docks without any trouble and even found a ship leaving for Kirkwall shortly.

He stopped and faced Justice, both of them uncertain what to say.

"I... am sorry if I disappointed you," Anders said. "By not being the mage you thought I was… not wanting to help you, work with you."

"I considered you as a host  _because_  of the mage you are," Justice said. "You risked your life to save the Circle's First Enchanter; you alone gave the new School a chance to continue. I do not think less of you for refusing me, Anders, even if I do not fully understand putting the needs of one above the needs of so many. A choice is a choice, and I shall respect the decision you made."

Anders nodded, feeling the guilt lift from his shoulders. "We would either have made a great team or a terrible one," he admitted. "Nothing mediocre with a partnership like that."

A small smile twitched at Justice's lips. "On that we can agree."

"Those are Wardens!" someone in the crowd suddenly called out. Anders and Justice both turned to look at the screeching woman and the shocked and angry faces of so many others in the crowd only just realising the same thing. Anders swallowed. Months past, he had helped heal the people of this city, had killed off the darkspawn that lingered near it. They had cheered. Maybe Varel was right and the nobles were secretly polluting people's opinion of the Wardens. Why else would they now hate them so?

A man came forward, face twisted into a sneer. "I had a brother in the Templars," he cried out. "Your kind murdered him!"

More people stepped forward, some drawing weapons, and Anders took a step back even as Justice stepped forward. "Desist with your baseless accusations," the spirit ordered. That only caused an uproar with the growing crowd. One man charged at Justice, but the spirit drew his sword quickly and parried the blow, before kicking the man away. The spirit looked over his shoulder at Anders as he stood there wide-eyed.

"Go!" he said, "I will hold them off."

"Justice-"

"Now!" he demanded, as another man came at him with two daggers.

"Thank you," Anders said, "for everything." Justice nodded and then turned to face more of the angry crowd.

Anders ran.

He ran full speed up the dock, hearing the sound of metal on metal and Justice's shouts to the crowd, desperately trying to calm them, not wanting to kill any of them. Anders stole a glance over his shoulder, noticing how the spirit was focusing on disarming them and not attacking.

"Go!" he said, voice breaking, to the Captain of the ship as he threw his coin purse at him. The man nodded, not wasting a minute as he shouted out orders to his men.

The ship jerked into motion and began to move as Anders watched Justice fight off the angry mob. The City's guards had joined the fray, trying to apprehend some of the people, but it wasn't enough. One of the attackers got in close; a man with a long scar across his cheek and near-black curly hair. In a flash of silver, Justice's hand was severed from his arm and his sword dropped to the damp wooden dock with a dull thud. There was a pause; everyone seemed horrified that Justice wasn't screaming in pain, if anything he was looking at the missing limb almost curiously. Then the man swung again. Justice blocked it, barely and ended up grabbing the man. Anders watched, breath held and helpless from the ship's railing, as Warden and man stumbled backwards and fell into the choppy waters.

"Justice!" Anders screamed as he leant over the railing, desperately searching for any sign of him.  _Did Justice know how to swim? Did Kristoff?_  The water was choppy where they fell, but whether it was from a struggle or the weather, he couldn't say. "Fuck it," he hissed. He dumped his staff on the ground and started to shrug off his heavy coat. He was about to dive in and save him when the attacker surfaced, gasping and with blood dripping from his face. A moment later, the man lifted his arm out of the water, and Anders' stomach dropped.

"No," he sobbed out, his gaze fixed on the severed head of his friend. "You bastards!" he yelled, his voice cracking. The man tossed Justice's head onto the dock and then clambered onto it himself. Anders watched with blurry vision as a bright flash of light shot out of the water. It hovered there, glowing a bright pearly white, before it dissolved and dissipated on the wind.

"No!" he cried as he slammed his fist down on the rail, tears pricking his eyes. " _Damn_   _it_ ," he muttered, hanging his head. "Damn it." He stared at the people running up the dock, shouting at him, but he didn't hear their words. He slumped against the side of the ship, letting the tears fall.

He wasn't sure what happened to spirits who died, let alone ones who died in this world. Would Justice reform? Would he remember any of them if he did? Or was he simply… gone?

Justice should have just cut them down, but he was  _Just_  until the very end. Those people had been lied to, tricked and used. They were lashing out in their grief and did not deserve to die for that. Anders should have stayed, though; he could have fought beside him as Wardens – brothers- were supposed to do. Instead he had run, like he always did. He wiped the tears from his face and took a shuddering breath. Aura would finally get her husband's body back, he supposed, not that it was any consolation for losing Justice like that.

He forced himself to his feet and looked back at the city slowly fading into the distance. All his life he had been trying to get out of Ferelden, and now he was fleeing from it. He shook his head and walked to the ship's bow. Ahead of him there was nothing but ocean, and somewhere beyond it lay Kirkwall, City of Chains, and Karl. Maybe Justice was right; maybe he could help Karl. Anders and Neri could do it together under the guise of visiting the man, Theo, who she had fled the darkspawn horde with. Even if he couldn't free every mage from Chantry and Templar leashes, he could try to free his friend. He'd do at least that in honour of Justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nail meet coffin. Just in case anyone was wondering what I planned to do with Justice in the sequel. As of right now. It's not a whole lot. Could change, of course but I really don't like loose ends; they make my ass itch. Anyway. Getting Anders to Kirkwall? Surprisingly hard. Hopefully his life being in danger is enough of a reason for them to ask him to sit this one out but I will let all of you be the judge of that. Alistair is back next week! - he's got quite a mess to clean up. And then it's the freakin finale!! 
> 
> Til next time guys <3


	70. Finale: Autonomy: Part 5 of 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Only one more chapter to go now guys. I've actually started posting the sequel already (like JUST now) *laughs* SO PLEASE GO READ IT! Hawke and I will love you forever if you do. ❤️ I'm actually super nervous about it, so please be nice! And I just posted the finale of Trading Places, the partner swap smut side piece. So if you were reading that then you get THREE updates tonight. I'll let you decide if that's a good thing or not.
> 
>  
> 
> Massive thanks to ElyssaCousland and to those who commented this week. Thank you guysss!
> 
> I hope to see some of you over at the sequel! And hopefully you all come by to read the Neri/Zev finale next week. I am giddy with devious delight about that particular chapter. *cackles*

Alistair stared at the ruined Tower in the lake, a little in awe. He hadn't known bombs that powerful even existed, let alone how the Templars had built them without anyone noticing. He shook his head solemnly, the anger bubbling up inside him again.  _So many dead, and for what?_ he thought bitterly. At least the Templars hadn't succeeded in making Anders Tranquil; he would take what small mercies he could at this point.

The Revered Mother had still heard about the events at Kinloch Hold, of course, but it had been from First Enchanter Irving and Knight Commander Greagoir's lips instead of those traitorous Templars, not that it seemed to have mollified things at all. He was worried that she would try to revoke the Crown's ruling of autonomy, taking the Circle back under the Chantry's control, which is why he'd come all the way out here to speak with her, Irving, and Greagoir in hopes that such a rash move wouldn't be necessary. He sighed; it was times like these he most wished that Arietta wasn't still in the Anderfels or wherever she was by now. He  _hoped_  she was on her way home; it had been months, but when had any of their carefully planned journeys ever gone totally, or at all, to plan?

He turned from the beach, and headed back into the new town of  _Freedom's Draw_  – ugh, he still couldn't believe the mages had actually called it that; could they be anymore conceited? He shook his head as he walked past the few shoreline buildings; it certainly wasn't a big town, not yet at least, with probably only ten or so families actually living there, and most of those were parents or relatives of the young apprentices that survived the Tower bombing. Alistair hoped that more would come once they realised how beneficial it was to live near so many mages.

The new College of Enchanters sat atop the hill, overlooking the small town, the school's new flags and banners billowing proudly in the wind. He climbed the hill toward it, noticing the candles and flowers all laid out in the gardens by the tree in memory of all those that had died at Kinloch Hold; a watery smile graced Alistair's lips as he saw both Templar and mage alike being honoured at the same shrine. For a brief moment, he felt like there was hope yet for mages and Templars to live peacefully together. That hope lasted about as long as it took him to reach the school and enter in through its doors, however.

"We're the most senior mages left! We have every right to be at that meeting," Solona Amell was saying rather heatedly to Knight Commander Greagoir, her blue eyes furious as Greagoir just sighed wearily.

"Mage Amell, Irving will be speaking on behalf of all the mages at this college; I for the Templars, the Revered Mother for the Chantry and the King-" Greagoir caught sight of him walking in through the doors, and Alistair gave him a weak smile and a rather awkward wave.

"Your Majesty," Greagoir said with a dip of his head. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise, Knight Commander." Alistair glanced at Sol with a smile. "You too, Solona."

The mage's anger seemed to dissipate; if there was one difference between Solona and Neri, it was that Solona had a much more level head on her shoulders. She thought about the bigger picture and knew who to show respect to, who to suck up to, and who to avoid; she also knew who she could get away with pushing, hence her argument with Greagoir, he suspected.

She gave him a genuine smile. "Nice to see you again; even nicer that it's not in the middle of battle this time," she commented playfully. "You actually look handsome now." Apparently she had him pegged as someone who could be easily teased without getting  _too_  offended; he wasn't sure whether to be scared or impressed at how easily she had read him.

"Hey, are you saying I didn't look handsome before, while I was covered in sweat and darkspawn ichor?" he said with faux accusation.

Solona flashed him an innocent grin. "Let's just say you clean up well, Your Majesty," she said with an elaborate bow.

He folded his arms across his chest, eyes still narrowed. "You know, you  _were_  at my coronation. I was all cleaned up then, too."

She chuckled. "Were you?" She shrugged a shoulder with casual ease. "I wasn't really paying attention; too busy watching Neri and that gorgeous elf of hers… what was his name?" She clicked her fingers, her expression thoughtful.

"Zevran?"

Sol's eyes darkened dangerously and she smirked. "Oh so you think he's gorgeous, too?" she purred.

"What? No, that's not what I-" Sol started to laugh and Alistair could feel the blush creeping up his neck. Why did Circle mages all have to be so… so lascivious?

Greagoir cleared his throat, looking at him expectantly.

"Right, duty calls and all that," Alistair said tiredly.

"The meeting is through here," Greagoir said, already walking towards a set of doors. "And no eavesdropping, Solona," he warned, not looking over his shoulder.

Alistair chuckled, following after Greagoir, as Solona groaned and slinked off.

Revered Mother Elemena was already inside with First Enchanter Irving, both of them sipping tea rather stiffly. It was more than obvious, even to Alistair, that these two didn't see eye to eye. He wasn't sure if they'd already had a bit of a spat while they waited, or if things were always just this tense between them; either way, it didn't bode well for these talks.

Alistair knew that Irving would stand with the mages, wanting them to keep their autonomy; that also happened to be where Alistair stood too. The Revered Mother would obviously want the College under Chantry control once more… it was Greagoir Alistair wasn't so sure about. He simply couldn't tell where the Knight Commander fell on the debate. The man  _had_  saved Anders and Solona, killing his own Templars to do it – although Alistair supposed they weren't really  _his_  at that point seeing as they betrayed the Order and then tried to kill their Knight Commander, but still. It didn't necessarily mean he agreed with an autonomous Circle - he just wasn't mad enough to murder everyone to prove a point, so that wasn't really all that helpful for figuring out his point of view.

Alistair greeted the Revered Mother with a warm smile and a respectful dip of his head before giving Irving the same greeting. Once that was done they all took seats on the sofas, cups of tea in their hands. He wasn't sure how he had expected this meeting to go but deciding the fate of an entire group of people while sipping tea probably hadn't been how he imagined it. With any luck though, the relaxed setting might help to stop things getting nasty; if it didn't, at least they'd be comfortable and well hydrated while they argued.

"I will get straight to the point, Your Majesty," the Revered Mother began.  _Don't you always?_  Alistair thought; he had heard more than a few stories of how Elemena didn't have many years left and so she never wasted a minute dithering about like so many of the other Chantry elders. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of her planning out her day down to the minute so as not to waste any time. "I know it was… well intentioned to give the Circle autonomy, but it simply is not working." Though he had been expecting that, it was still frustrating to hear. "This most recent tragedy was a direct consequence of the Circle being handed over to the mages; the loyal Templars only wanted to return the Tower to the proper authorities."

_That_  however, did surprise him. "Are you actually justifying  _murder_  right now?" Alistair asked incredulously, his voice lifting a pitch. "Because it really sounds like you are."

Elemena looked like she had eaten something sour as her lips pursed, and then evened out into a thin disapproving line. "What they did was unforgiveable, and it is for the Maker to judge them justly for their sins now, but it still stands that such a desperate act was only used because they deemed it absolutely necessary. And I suspect it won't be the last time something like this happens."

Alistair narrowed his eyes. "Should we take cover under the tables? Are your Templars going to blow up a school next, with all of us in it, just to prove yet another point?" he said caustically.

"Considering the remaining Templars are few in number and just as incensed at Rylock's actions as I am… that seems unlikely," Greagoir pointed out dryly. "Rylock took matters into her own hands, something she was only able to do while  _I_  was away dealing with the new Circle, no less."

"So you're saying this wouldn't have happened if you were at the Tower?" Alistair asked cynically, watching as Greagoir shifted in his seat, clearly already growing tired of Alistair's questions.

"I am saying it is a distinct possibility that I may have noticed what others did not. I knew many of the Templars, myself included, were uncertain about giving the Circle over to the mages; Uldred's uprising is still fresh in our minds," he explained candidly, leaning forward in his seat to meet Alistair's gaze. "For months now I have been making sure proper safety precautions are in place here at  _Freedom's Draw;_  no matter who is in charge of the school, stopping abominations must always be our priority." He paused, his gaze dropping as he shook his head slightly. "But clearly that is not the  _only_  threat institutions such as these possess," he muttered resentfully. "I never would have expected my Templars to be capable of such a heinous act, but fear does terrible things to people."

"Greagoir is right," Irving began, shifting to face Elemena a little more directly, his forehead puckered thoughtfully; the Revered Mother lifted her head, holding his gaze, her mouth set in a grim line.  _Oh these two_ really _don't like each other,_  Alistair thought, trying to hide the smile creeping across his lips. "What this incident proves, more than anything, is that Templars, just as much as mages, are capable of going to great evils out of desperation or want of power, just as  _any_  man is."

She fixed him with a gimlet-eye, her nostrils flaring slightly. "Mages are more dangerous than  _any_  man," Elemena retorted automatically. "You only have to look back to last year and Uldred's actions to know that. That  _mage_  was given the opportunity to fight at Ostagar," she said as if that was the best thing that could ever happen to a mage; Alistair nearly scoffed at the thought, "but that was not enough for him and he turned to blood magic to incite an uprising. How many were turned into abominations by that mad man?" she asked, looking to Greagoir and then back to Irving, her eyes crinkled with frustration. "You yourself, Irving, were witness to it all, to the horrors mages are capable of."

Irving's eyes momentarily flashed with annoyance before he reined it in, composing himself with a slow deep breath. "I also saw the  _good_  they are capable of – there were mages trapped in that room with me, Solona and Finn included, who supported one another and did not back down even as Uldred dangled power and temptations before them. Need I remind you that it was one of our own, Neria Surana and the Wardens, who ended Uldred's life?" He took a sip of his tea, his eyes never leaving Elemena's.

The woman clinched her jaw, her eyes narrowing further.  _Yes_ , Alistair thought,  _I bet you just love being reminded of all the things the Wardens have done to help this country_. "That may be true," she stated carefully, "but the threat of mages turning into abominations will  _always_  loom over their heads," Elemena said, "and once that happens, they are capable of unimaginable evil and destruction."

"At least abominations are mindless monsters," Alistair argued through clenched teeth. "Rylock and her Templars, however,  _planned_  this. They knew Anders was coming to the Tower; they even called out the Wardens with a darkspawn sighting so that they could blame it all on them! And we believe they were working with the nobles in Amaranthine as well, hence the mobs of angry people outside the Keep. One of our Wardens was  _killed_  because these people have gone too far.

"It is the Templars that are the real monsters here," he insisted; "the ones who chose to take all of those lives, to murder members of their own order in cold blood, to make themselves terrorists. And this isn't the first time we've encountered Templars committing heinous acts – Albert abused Neri for  _years_." He glanced at Greagoir, watching the man's stony gaze. "You're a good Knight Commander, Greagoir, but even you must admit that there have been failings."

Greagoir shifted in his seat, straightening his back slightly. "I do admit that, yes, but perhaps it was because we were not vigilant enough," he countered solemnly.

"Really?" Alistair asked, eyebrows raised. "I don't think the problem is with the mages. Aren't they kept in check enough as it is? They're watched constantly, trained meticulously,  _Harrowed_ , and yet the Templars are barely watched at all. What checks are  _they_  subject to?" he asked, his fingers tapping with frustration on the arm rest.

"They are trained for years in-"

"Yes, I know, I nearly became a Templar," Alistair said curtly before taking a breath and rubbing his nose. "They are trained to  _stop_  mages, trained to not get involved with them, to not even see them as people because it's easier to cut them down that way. Can you imagine what it's like for a mage to live in a Tower with armoured men constantly watching them; men trained to control and kill them a dozen different ways? Just who is it that makes sure the Templars are not abusing their charges? Did anything even change after Neri's abuse?"

Greagoir swallowed, unable to hold Alistair's gaze. "We made it so that two Templars were always needed to watch over a mage or group of mages so that no Templars were alone with them."

"You realise that doesn't necessarily make things better, right?"

The Knight Commander's jaw twitched and he let his breath out roughly through his nose. "Yes, I am aware that such a thing  _could_  be the case, but I trust my Templars; I  _know_  my Templars."

"You can't claim to know  _everything_  about all of your men."

Greagoir looked ready to argue but Irving put a hand on his arm. "We are not asking to do away with the Templars or Circle entirely," Irving said slowly, glancing between Greagoir and Elemena. "Stopping abominations and educating the mages remain the two most important things at this new college," he explained patiently.

"Exactly," Alistair said. "The Templars will still exist and live alongside the mages, they just won't be able to make mages tranquil or annul the school without the express agreement of the mages. I don't think that's unreasonable."

"And you are fine with that, Knight Commander?" Elemena asked Greagoir incredulously.

Greagoir sat back in his seat, running a hand down the side of his face with a weary sigh. "After recent events… yes, I am," he said looking as if he didn't quite believe what he was saying either. "I have faith in Irving and his mages; they proved themselves both during Uldred's uprising and during this bombing. Solona Amell especially showed a levelheadedness I had not expected to see given the circumstances." He looked at Irving fondly. "I know you had considered her, at one point, to be your replacement; if such an idea still appeals to you, I would approve." Irving smiled, nodding slightly.

Greagoir looked to Elemena again. "I trust that the mages will keep me and my Templars informed of any mages they are worried about, that they will call upon us if there are problems, and I trust that without all of the fear mages have toward their jailors, abuses such as what Neria went through will never happen again. Most of all, I have faith that Irving and I will continue to work together well as we have done all these years prior."

"The mages have proven themselves time and time again, Revered Mother," Alistair argued. "They helped fight the Blight, helped save and then rebuild Denerim and many other parts of Ferelden." He leant forward in his seat, holding the older woman's gaze. "For too long people have blindly feared mages because of Chantry rhetoric." He didn't give her a chance to interrupt although he watched her eyes narrow, clearly insulted. "It's time we changed that; it's time we showed them the  _good_  mages are capable of too." He motioned to the room around them. "This town serves as a fresh start for  _all_ ; a future where mages work within the community, healing and helping the townsfolk, a future where mages and Templars watch one  _another_  to keep each other in check, one where both are free of the Chantry's chains. And until such a time as that is proven  _not_  to be effective or not to work at all, the Circle  _will_  be staying autonomous."

Elemena sat up, back straight and tense. Her lips puckered as she looked to Greagoir to see if he would argue further; he didn't. Her cold gaze returned to Alistair. "Then I bid you good day, gentlemen." She got up from her seat, her lips a thin line and dipped her head tightly to them all before walking out of the doors.

Alistair sighed heavily before taking a sip from his now-cold tea with a crinkle of his nose. He set the teacup back on the table, then sat back in his seat rubbing at the bridge of his nose.  _That could have gone better._  He hadn't meant to piss off the Chantry, but they could be so, so  _infuriating_  sometimes and he wasn't about to let them undermine a ruling he and Arietta had made together; their  _first_  ruling as King and Queen.

He glanced up at the two men sitting opposite him. "Did you really mean what you said, by the way? About Solona; is she really to be First Enchanter?"

Irving gave a slight nod, his fingers scratching at his beard. "There were senior mages that we were considering as well," he began. "But I had always hoped Solona would one day make an excellent candidate for the role."

"As far as I am concerned, she more than proved herself," Greagoir said, nodding slightly. "And seeing as most of the senior mages are now dead…" He sighed, his gaze dropping down to his lap. "But enough of that." He got up and opened a bottle of wine, tipping the deep red liquid into three glasses. He brought it back over to the table shared between them, handing them each a glass. "To a fresh start; Maker knows we all need it."

"To a fresh start," Alistair and Irving said in unison, lifting their glasses before drinking.

That was one thing sorted, at least. The mages would remain free, for now. He wasn't sure how long it would last… but he'd done all he could for them today. Now there was just the matter of these nobles and the trouble with the common folk thinking the Wardens were responsible for the destruction of the Tower. He doubted that would be so easy to fix.

Opinions of Wardens had dropped considerably now that they weren't actively saving everyone from darkspawn, as they always did. They'd need to show the common folk that the Wardens had nothing to do with the Tower, and then gradually rebuild trust again. With luck, finishing the repairs in Amaranthine would help, but that didn't mean they weren't taking precautions, too. Olivia and Lenny would be returning from their tour early, accompanied by three new recruits. Alistair had already begun sneaking in some of his own soldiers and men to Vigil's Keep, most of them dressed as servants to help boost the Keep's numbers without it being obvious they were doing so.

It was Arietta they all desperately needed, however; she was the one who dealt with the scorned nobles in the first place, and was the most likely to be able to figure out just what they had planned next. He just hoped they returned in time to fix things before they got truly out of hand, although Varel and Nathaniel had handled things competently so far, minus the whole  _sending Anders away_  thing. That had made the Wardens look bad –guilty. Not that he really blamed them for doing so; Anders had been used as a target once, and could be used again. And  _nobody_  wanted to deal with the shitstorm Neri could potentially unleash if she found out Anders was in trouble, or worse.

He sighed slightly, hopeful that Arietta was not far from being back in his arms once again.

* * *

 

Solona wiggled her toes, sighing contentedly at the soft feel of sand running between them. It had been years since she'd just sat on a beach like this with the fresh air blowing around her. And it felt better than ever since she'd been on her feet non-stop all day. She'd spent the morning decorating with the apprentices, seeing as Templars had apparently thought that grey was an appropriate colour scheme for a school.  _Morons_. Now the entranceway was decorated with multi-coloured hand prints and other finger paintings, and the base colour was a light creamy yellow. Her afternoon had been spent rushing around making sure the new residents of the town and school had everything they needed. And she had spent the past few hours pacing about while she tried to think up fun lesson plans and activities for the students with Finn and a few of the other mages.

With less than twenty mages left alive, all needing to look after thirty or so apprentices, things were going to be… interesting, for a while. Most of the mages weren't going to be very good teachers - several in fact, hated children or teenagers - and seeing as there was so much the students needed to learn in order to stay safe and demon-free, Sol was worried they wouldn't have enough mages or resources present to get everything done. She had sent word to other Circles – Ostwick, the White Spire, even Cumberland - asking for mages to be transferred to Ferelden; she doubted any would respond, though, seeing as it would mean making mages 'free'. They would just have to make do without.

But it was early evening now and Sol had finally found a few moments for herself, coming to sit on the beach with the gentle waves of the lake lapping at the shore, her toes lost in the sand as she sat enjoying the warm evening sun. In the Circle she had never been able to appreciate just what a beautiful view Lake Calenhad provided - the lack of windows certainly made that tricky. The Tower was still smoking a little; according to the Templars, the entire library had gone up in flames, followed shortly after by everything else flammable. With so few mages left alive, dousing the flames simply wasn't possible, so they had simply let it burn down. They had tried to salvage what they could, but it seemed that almost everything had been destroyed – all of the mage's phylacteries included, not that Sol would weep over such a thing. Despite the tragedy and the losses, they were all free now –  _really_  free, and King Alistair had made sure it stayed that way. She could hardly keep the smile from her face, as her worries and fears slowly melted away. Now they would show those idiot Templars how to really run a Circle.

"Greagoir said he saw you come out here," Irving's rasping voice suddenly said from behind her. He smiled at her warmly as he took a seat next to her. "Lovely, isn't it, to feel the sun on your skin?" he asked as he smiled up at the reddened skies, eyes closed serenely.

"I'll probably burn before you can say  _watch out for the terrible two_ ," she said, laughing.

Irving chuckled and then glanced at her, his eyes glistening slightly. "You must miss them."

"Of course I do; Neri and Anders are my best friends." She breathed in deeply. "But…I always enjoyed the Circle, or at least, I saw its necessity and usefulness. I know Neri appreciates it as a place of learning, nerd that she is, maybe Anders does too, deep down, but they both always hated how much of a prison it was. This is better, but to them, it's probably still too much."

"They always were rather free-spirited," Irving agreed.

"You mean they were absolute terrors," she laughed. "And now Anders has apparently fled to Kirkwall of all places," she said shaking her head.

"Karl is there," Irving said, frowning worriedly.

"You think he'd try something?"

"He does rather have the reputation for it, but no, I don't think even he is that brash or foolish."

She smirked. "Willing to bet money on that?"

He glanced at her, one brow arched. "Already turning the new school into a place of gambling, Solona?" he said with a tut and a shake of his head.

She laughed. "No, just a friendly bet between friends," she said with a grin. She swallowed, her throat suddenly thick. "For what it's worth, Irving, I'm glad you're alright. When I saw that Tower go down… and then seeing you on the beach, not breathing, I-" Her voice caught and she took a shaky breath.

"Shh, child." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. "It is why I came out here to talk to you. I am not getting any younger and-"

"Don't," she said, voice hoarse. "You aren't going to die for a long time yet, Irving – just look at all the shit you've survived! Uldred, the Blight and now a  _bombing._  If I didn't know you as well as I did, I'd think you've got some shady deal with a demon," she said smiling fondly.

He chuckled. "I pray you are right; I will, however, wish to retire, eventually. Naturally, such thoughts had me considering who would replace me as First Enchanter." His eyes sparkled as he watched her, and Sol's heart fluttered at the sight.  _Was he about to…?_  "Even when we had an abundance of senior mages at the Tower,  _you_  were always someone I had high hopes for, and those hopes have only grown with the recent tragedy."

"Irving…"

"I have spoken with Greagoir, child, and he approves; we both think that one day you would make an excellent First Enchanter."

She could feel the tears pricking at her eyes and she tried to blink them away. "I… don't know what to say."

"I know you have been planning things for the students – your students – all day and that you have always wanted to teach, but if you would consider returning to being a student, just for a little longer, then say yes."

"Yes," she whispered with a watery smile. "Yes, I would be honoured, First Enchanter."

"I am pleased to hear it," he said smiling brightly.

"You won't regret this, I swear it; I'll make you proud, Irving," she said as she pulled him in for a hug.

He chuckled against her ear, wrapping his arms around her. "You already have."


	71. FINALE: Autonomy: Part 6 of 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck! This is it. This is actually it! The finale is here at long last. It's safe to say I am equally excited and nervous to be posting this. But I'll save most of my blabbering for the ending note.

Sofía had been good on her word, going as far as to get him a job handed out by the Circle of Magi themselves. As part of his deal with the Circle upon taking this job, he was guaranteed a meeting with the Seers upon completion. It had been an odd few weeks of speaking with people in various taverns and establishments in the city, trying to find leads. Beltrán, as it turned out, had flourished under Sofía – ah but wasn't that most amusing imagery? – apparently wanting to impress her with his skills as an assassin, and had actually been the one to get them the lead on the man Zevran had come to investigate now.

The attic was dark and gloomy as he quietly entered it, having found nothing in the rest of the tall house. The wan light of dawn was only just beginning to filter in through the thin curtains of the single long window at the other side of the narrow room, but Zevran's eyes adjusted quickly. He treaded carefully, avoiding the dusty and seemingly endless amount of clutter that lined the walls of the small space. Even in the dim light, he could see the man's papers on the wall, covered in his rantings and ravings. If that hadn't been enough to confirm this man as his target, what he found next certainly would have. Sitting in a shallow tray on one of the desks were vials of an unmistakable purple liquid:  _magebane_. He picked one up, and held it up in the direction of the window, shaking his head slightly as the deadly liquid swirled in the vial. The most beautiful things were often the most lethal, he found.

This man, his target, had contaminated the drinking lyrium that the mages and templars at the Circle used. Three were dead already, one of whom had been little older than Neri. His grip on the vial tightened. This man had targeted mages when they were at their most vulnerable: low on mana and in desperate need of more. Only instead of being rejuvenated, the mages that drank the contaminated vials were either crippled further or died in agony. As a professional assassin, Zevran had to admit that it was a very effective way of taking out mages. Despite the attacker's careful plans, however, it hadn't taken Zevran or Bel long to track the man down. There weren't many mage haters in Rivain, after all.

The man's daughter had been visiting the Circle as part of some educational visit some years ago, when she was killed, caught in some foolish mage's alchemy experiment. Naturally, the father blamed the Circle mages for murdering her, and blamed the Templars for not supervising the mages as they were supposed to. It was petty and misplaced revenge at best, done in anger and grief. Zevran sympathised for the man's loss; once upon a time, he may even have agreed to be contracted by such a man. And as grateful as he was for an opportunity to impress the Seers, this entire contract had become a little too personal; what he would usually shrug off as an understandable crime, now felt grievous, and he knew it was because Neri had been on his mind almost constantly since he'd taken up the job. He was so close now. So close to meeting the Seers, to hopefully getting answers and a solution. And then he would be on the first ship to Amaranthine, to her.

It was as he was holding up that vial to the dim sunlight, that he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. Zevran lowered the vial slowly and tsk-ed. "My friend, your time is rather up, I am afraid. Why don't you make this easier for us all and come with me so we can-"

"Come mierda!" the man hissed as he, rather rudely, shoved a towering pile of papers at him -which Zevran very nimbly side-stepped- before he bolted toward the window. The man shouldered clumsily straight through the glass, and Zevran gave chase.

He reached the broken window just in time to see his target come out of an awkward looking roll before getting back to his feet and taking off at speed again. Zevran rolled his eyes and hopped gracefully through the window, enjoying the way the warm wind wrapped around him, whipping his long silvery hair about his face as he sprinted after the panicked man. The rooftops looked beautiful at this time of day, with golden rays of dawnlight chasing away the shadows of night. And he always did enjoy a good rooftop chase. Alas, this one was over far too quickly. Zevran turned the corner the man had just taken and not ten paces ahead, Bel leapt out of the shadows and tackled the man, knocking him clear off his feet and down to the hard ground. Despite the boy's petite size, he knocked their target out with practiced ease before the man could even put up a fight.

The boy looked up at him as he approached, grinning proudly, his black hair swept to one side across the dark skin of his forehead.

"Excellent work!" Zevran said cheerfully.

"That was awesome!" Beltrán said excitedly as he got back to his feet and dusted himself off.

"Now for the hard part, no?" Zevran said, smiling.

The boy sighed. "You're taking the head this time; I don't want lice  _again_."

Zevran laughed. "And what makes you so sure, my dear partner, that his feet won't have some nasty disease?"

"You called me partner," Bel said, ignoring his comments about disease-ridden feet.

"Ah, did I?" Zevran said evasively as he gently kicked the side of their targets head, checking he was indeed unconscious.

"Yes. You said it, just then."

"Perhaps your ears need cleaning out, or perhaps I did, and I do in fact consider you as such."

The grin the boy gave him was the sort a son might give their father after they finally complimented them. And suddenly Beltrán was hugging him, arms wrapped right around his neck, squeezing. Zevran tapped the boy on the back somewhat affectionately and let out an awkward chuckle.

"I do not think we are quite  _that_  sort of partnership," he said as he disentangled himself from the boy. Beltrán cleared his throat, his cheeks flamed.

"Sorry, Ser."

"I am Zev to my friends," he said with a smile, which made the boy's hazel eyes light up. "Come, we must get this man to the Circle before he wakes back up, no?"

…

It was a long and difficult walk back to the Circle Tower, with the shorter boy carrying the man by his feet while Zevran held him by the armpits. On more than one occasion the man had begun to stir and they'd been forced to stop the knock him out again. But finally, they could see the Tower, the massive grey building that was Dairsmuid's Circle. It stood apart from surrounding buildings, huge as it was, and surrounded by lush green gardens. The sun's rays sparkled off of the stain glassed windows that adorned much of the Circle's walls. Inside, he knew, from the first and last time he had visited it, many of the rooms would be lit up with rainbows of light, a dozen different colours shimmering across the walls. Neri would have liked this Circle much better than Kinloch Hold, he was sure, although, if rumours were to be believed, Kinloch Hold was no more.

The mages allowed him and Bel entry, even assisting them by putting the man under a sleeping spell before they used their magic to carry him the rest of the way inside. A woman with sea-glass green eyes greeted them with a smile as she eyed the sleeping man. She checked him over, nodding, before holding out her hand to them. Zevran handed her the vials of magebane he had found, as well as the papers planning the attack and the man's journals. She looked through the papers, her lips pressing into a thin line before she nodded.

"Well done," she said softly. "You worked quicker than I thought you might."

"I am only slow when the situation calls for it, I assure you," he purred back.

She let out a chuff of laughter. "The other mages said you were overly fond of innuendo; they also said it was extremely annoying. It appears they were right on both accounts," she said not unkindly, a smile crinkling her eyes. "Come; as per the Circle's agreement with you, the Seers will see you now."

He glanced at the kid, nodding for him to stay put while the green-eyed woman led him through two thick doors and then up a long spiral staircase. It was most rare for him to get nervous, but he couldn't seem to stop his heart from pounding at his chest. This was it, the moment he had been working to reach for months now. And all of this on the slim hope that they would be able to help him.  _What if they can't_ , a small part of him wondered; he squashed it down. They would help. They would be  _able_  to, he had to believe that.

The woman stopped and motioned toward a door before leaving him. He listened to the sounds of her footsteps until they were little more than a distant patter on the stone ground. He stared at the door before him; it was an entirely normal looking door, made of wood with a metal door handle, and yet Zev couldn't seem to bring himself to open the damn thing.  _This is ridiculous,_  he thought,  _the sooner we get this over and done with the better, yes?_ He was just about to reach out and open it when the door flew open, revealing an older woman with her greying hair twisted into an intricate bun on top of her head.

"You just gonna stand out there all day, sonny?" she asked, scowling at him.

He sputtered in surprise a little before clearing his throat. "Ah, but I was just admiring your door. Lovely handiwork, no?"

She chuckled. "It's just a door, lad, same as any. Now in you get; you're causing a draught." He stepped in and she kicked the door shut behind him. "Introductions right quick," she said. "Bea, that's me, and these two lovely ladies are Annamarie and Louisa," she said as she nodded her head in two separate directions.

He was not entirely sure what he had expected the Rivaini Seers to be like, or at least what he had expected the 'official' Seers to be like – he had some rather vivid images of the hedge witches that supposedly lived on the outskirts of villages and towns. But he had not expected them to look this…  _normal_. Annamarie was slightly younger looking than Bea; she was sitting by the window with a book in hand and spectacles half way down her nose with her long black hair falling long and loose around her shoulders. Louisa was on the other side of the room, sitting crossed-legged on the ground facing them as she began painting odd symbols on the floor around her. She had light brown hair but her eyes were obscured by her thick fringe. He stared, fascinated by what she was doing. He had heard of these seers communicating with spirits, even going as far as to be possessed by them; he idly wondered if these seers were currently possessed and if so, by what.

"Wisdom, usually," Bea answered. "Although, you do have to be careful with that one; it easily turns to pride." He stared at her, honey eyes blinking in surprise.

"Surely you did not just-"

"Read your thoughts?" She chuckled. "Maybe, maybe not." She watched him, her stare seeming to look  _through_  him. He shivered.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, then lifted her hands. "May I?" she asked. He nodded and she touched his temples and closed her brown eyes. He watched her lips as she murmured something, some kind of spell, perhaps? He felt a dull ache in his head and then her eyes opened and she frowned. "Interesting," she said, sounding a little surprised and concerned. "You told our people a blood mage had controlled your mind… usually such things are fleeting and only possible in the presence of said blood mage. But I can still see and feel her control over you even now, so unless she is in the room with us…" She paused and looked around the room at the other two Seers; both looked up at her in turn. They all laughed. "Then this  _blood mage_  is beyond anything I have ever seen before."

Zevran swallowed as the worry crept up to his throat. "Does that mean you cannot help me?"

She smiled slightly. "I did not say that." Bea glanced at the black-haired woman still sitting by the window but who was now watching them curiously instead of reading her book. "Ana, come see, dear."

The black-haired woman got up from her seat and tucked her spectacles into the top of her dress, right between her round breasts, as she came toward him. She circled him and slid a hand up into his hair, fisting the silvery strands; he felt yet more magic wash over him, making him grit his teeth.

Then she pulled her hand free, making an odd little cooing noise. "She's got her claws in deep, probably on purpose," she said. "Won't be easy, Bea."

"I already know that," Bea said with a smirk. "What I don't know is why." She glanced at the woman still sitting on the ground in her little ritual circle. "Louisa, anything?"

The woman on the ground was rocking now, chanting, her eyes squeezed shut. The candles around her began to flicker wildly despite there being no draught in the oval room. Gooseflesh broke out across his skin and his hairs stood on end as the air around them seemed to shift and shimmer. The woman's chanting grew louder, her rocking more violent. She gasped suddenly and her eyes flew open, revealing cloudy white irises. She looked directly at him.

"The spirits say only one thing," she rasped, her body twitching. " _Slayer_." She tilted her head slightly, those cloudy eyes of hers locked with Zevran's. " _Slayer, slayer, slayer_ ," she repeated, her voice hoarse and otherworldly sounding.

"That mean much to you?" Bea asked him. "The spirits seem to think it's important."

Zevran nodded. "They mean the Slayer of the Archdemon, Neri Surana. She is the reason I came here."

"Then explain all," Bea said softly, giving his hand a quick squeeze.

And he did. He told them how he had met her during the Blight, how they had grown close during that time. He explained the Royal Wedding and the attempted assassination on Neri's life; he explained all he knew about Carina, the blood mage, how she had wanted Neri dead at first but now needed her for something, needed both Zevran and Anders too in order to control her.

"Then it is mere convenience that you recall any of that at all. The blood mage means to keep you away until her plans are ready," Annamarie was saying as she paced around them, her black brows furrowed.

"It would help to know more about this blood mage… but that seems unlikely to happen. She could very well be listening to our talks right now," Bea said with a shake of her head.

"Can you rid me of her control?" Zevran asked, his hands fidgeting in front of him. "It is very important that you do."

Bea sighed slightly and nodded. "I believe so, yes." Zevran smiled in relief. "It will take a great deal of work, however," she continued, "But all of that can be prepared in a matter of days. The sooner we do this ritual, the better. We do not want to run the risk of the blood mage coming to stop our plans, or sinking her claws any deeper into  _you_."

He nodded, feeling like a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders. They would free him of the witch's control, and then he would be able to safely return to Neri. He would need to be careful, of course - he did not doubt that the witch would be watching - but he was good at staying out of sight, and he knew it would not take much to get a message to Neri, to warn her, once this blood mage could no longer access his mind. He would just have to make sure that she didn't  _retake_  it.

"Oh Bea, aren't you even going to warn the poor boy?" Ana said with a roll of her eyes.

"I was just getting to that, Ana," the older woman said back, exasperated.

"The ritual can have side effects," Ana explained.

"Ah, side effects?" Zevran asked, his voice sounding a little uncertain.

"Memory loss, most likely," she explained. "Seeing as that blood mage has her claws in deep – she doesn't  _want_  you to remember anything, should you find someone to free you of her control. Quite clever really."

Bea let out a rough sigh. "The memory loss should be temporary though," she added, giving Ana a pointed look.

Zevran nodded. "I'll do it; whatever it takes, whatever the cost." He would just have to hope he didn't lose his memory. If he did… well, he would just have to write a diary of sorts, write down the events of his life, of the Crows, of Rinna, of Taliesen. Of his first meeting with Neri, of the first kiss they shared up on the battlements of Redcliffe, of the way he had kissed her knuckles, telling her they would take things slow, one kiss at a time. Of the days and nights spent after that doing just that, until they finally laid together. Of every day after where she had been all he could think of, of the slow realisation that he loved her. Of the events that had followed after the Blight: the assassination attempt, Carina, all of it. He would draw her, draw everyone important to him. He would not allow himself to forget, never to know again what he needed to return to, what he needed to save.

"You are more than welcome to stay here until we are ready to try," Bea said with a genuine smile. "Just no funny business with our younger mages, you hear? I know your sort."

Zevran lifted his hands placatingly, smiling. "Such accusations," he teased. "You have nothing to fear, my dear; my heart belongs to another."

Bea snorted derisively. "I've heard that one before."

"There is more," Louisa suddenly said, her body had gone entirely still, her face contorted in a grimace and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Ana and Bea looked concerned as they both stared at their fellow Seer with slightly wide eyes.

" _Slayer, slayer, slayer_  they say," Louisa whispered, her voice seeming to echo all around them, making an icy shiver travel all the way up Zevran's spine. Her eyes twitched open and found Zevran's once more. "But they do not mean  _your_  slayer."

* * *

 

Neri missed Viento, her big graceful stallion. Upon reaching Nevarra once more, Neri had asked the owner if they could keep him, but he had refused, stating that Viento was one of his  _prized_   _stallions_  and that only Arietta's status as Queen had made it so he lent him out at all. Neri had very reluctantly handed over Viento's reins after that, and with even greater reluctance she had taken Terrence's in return. That stupid horse had tried to bite her on the nose upon seeing her, and it had just been downhill from then on, with Terrence being Terrence and never doing what she said. Barkspawn was at least happy to see her again. So happy, in fact, that he had leapt at her and knocked her into the muddy ground and licked her face clean off – that was an exaggeration, but it had sure felt like it at the time.

But at least the weather had been warm and pleasant, and as they slowly made their way through Nevarra any lingering ill-temper from the Anderfels had evaporated. Max and Rafael especially were chatty and spirited, obviously looking forward to getting back to the Keep to tell the others the wonderful news. They were definitely in that  _honeymoon_   _phase_ , unable to keep their hands off of each other, both of them all laughter and smiles.

They had been discussing where they could go on holiday for weeks now, with Max, naturally, listing off the pros and cons of every single place in Thedas. Neri was pretty sure it was now down to somewhere in Antiva… or Orlais, but they both changed their minds so much she couldn't be sure. Neri had, of course, told them all of the stories Zev had told her of Antiva, and that seemed to have swayed Max at the very least into wanting to go there; Rafael, however, was content to just go somewhere peaceful and out of the way so they could make love all day long – that had nearly won Max over on the spot, and Neri had been more than a little tempted to join them too.

Despite not being certain _where_  they were going to go, it had been fun to listen to them discuss it, with Max's over-excitable chatter and Rafael's dryer remarks and amused smiles. Arietta had been quieter on the return journey, often getting lost in thought, not that Neri could blame her. The First Warden had given her much to think over; added to the things Neri had learned, Arietta was probably still mulling it over and making plans. She never did know when to stop working and just relax. But even she had lightened up considerably as they neared Cumberland; despite hating the ferry, it meant they were all nearly home.

Neri would just be glad to have a break from riding – or struggling with – Terrence for a while. She should be worried, she knew, that there was probably an evil Old God baby blood mage thing stalking her, but when had Neri ever been known to dwell on anything? She would tuck that piece of information away, saving it until it became valuable, and until then she would damn well enjoy herself.

That plan hadn't lasted long, however. A messenger had approached them all upon reaching the port in Cumberland, and handed Arietta several letters. The human had stared down at them a moment, frowning, before opening the first one: a sealed letter from Seneschal Varel. Arietta's expression had been grim indeed as she read that before passing it to Neri with a worried scowl. 'Balls' had been the only thing Neri could say in reply to Varel's words. She couldn't imagine the Circle Tower being  _gone_ – fucking blown up! She may not have liked the damned place but it  _had_  been her home at one point. And the list of dead had made her blood run cold. She knew them all, every single one of them, and now they were simply dead. Neri had  _known_  they hadn't seen the last of Rylock, but she never in a million ages thought that the woman would be batshit insane enough to blow up the whole bloody Circle. The fact that she had tried to frame Anders for it – had threatened to make him  _Tranquil_  - only incensed Neri further until she was pacing and ranting and raging along Cumberland's docks.

The second letter was from Alistair. He had explained his talks with Greagoir, Irving, and Denerim's Revered Mother. Neri had been a little calmer upon hearing that he had manged to keep the mages free and in charge, and that things at the School were going well. Apparently Sol was even going to be First Enchanter one day, which was… a strange thought, but an amazing one.

The third and final letter was addressed directly to Neri. It explained that Anders had been told to flee for fear that he would be targeted by more Templars – or the nobles who had apparently been working with Rylock and the others to turn the common folk against Wardens. Worse still, apparently Justice had been killed, cut down by an angry mob getting Anders safely on a ship – a ship bound for  _Kirkwall,_ of all places – while they were at the docks in Amaranthine.

Neri had wanted to return to Ferelden. Grab Anders. And then go on holiday. She just wanted to relax and not have to worry about anything for a while. And she knew she would only be able to do that if she wasn't  _in_  Ferelden, otherwise she'd just get dragged back into work. But that was happening anyway. With the latest news from Ferelden, she now wanted to go check on Solona and make sure things were okay at the School with her own eyes. She wanted to  _obliterate_  the nobles and Templars responsible for killing so many people, Justice included. And once she had done those things, she wanted to track down the Architect and speak with him. And maybe even find Flemeth, too, and kick her ass.

But, for once, she wasn't going to do any of that stuff.

Anders having fled to Kirkwall was, potentially, the excuse she needed to get  _out_ , at least for a while. Not that him having fled was a good thing. She still couldn't believe how close to death or being made  _Tranquil_  he had come. It made her blood simultaneously boil with rage that someone would try to do that to him, and turn to ice at how close they had come to succeeding. And it was  _her_  fault he'd been put in that situation in the first place. Neri had been the one to ask for an autonomous Circle all those months ago. She should have known it would have consequences; everything she did seemed to after all. Why did shit like this always happen to her and the people she cared about _?_  Why couldn't she just have a normal fucking life for once? One where her boyfriends didn't constantly run away from her! Or where things didn't go to absolute shit around her, one where she could be happy, actually properly  _happy_  and not this fake kind of happy where she was constantly just trying to ignore all the bad shit and focus on the very few good things in her life.

"Neri!  _Please_  stop pacing," Arietta said wearily from her spot on a dockside bench. Neri had been pacing non-stop since reading the letters, ranting broken sentences and strings of curses. They had all tried to calm her down, but she hadn't been listening to them for some time now, and Arietta was starting to worry. Even Barkspawn, who sat next to Arietta, was whining sadly as he watched his owner's frantic pacing. The boys had left some time ago to check the ferry times, find Neri a ship heading for Kirkwall, and give Arietta and Neri some space to talk.

"Sorry," Neri mumbled, finally hearing her. "I just –  _fuck!_ We can't leave for two minutes before everything goes to shit, can we?" she asked, running her hands anxiously through her hair.

"We've been gone three months," Arietta pointed out dryly.

"Cock fucker," Neri blurted angrily, spinning angrily on her heel. "I just want to fucking-!" Neri turned to her, fists scrunching, and suddenly the bench Arietta was sitting on was warping beneath her. She leapt up from it just in time to see Neri crush it with her magic, turning it into a splintered ball.

" _Neri_ ," Arietta hissed as the mage began looking for other things to crush. "That's enough!" She grabbed Neri's shoulder and turned the elf around, only then noticing the tears spilling down Neri's cheeks. Her whole body trembling as she tried to fight the tears. "Oh Neri," Arietta whispered as she pulled her friend in for a hug.

"One time, just one  _fucking_  time can't things go well for us?" Neri asked, voice cracking.

Arietta felt her own throat tighten and she squeezed Neri a little tighter. "I know," she whispered. "I can't believe…" She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt tears prick at them. "All those deaths…" She shuddered. "We'll get through this, Neri, like we always do."

Neri pulled back, sniffing, her head shaking. "I don't know if I can…" she rasped. Arietta froze as she stared at her. Neri's face crumpled. "I just want to be happy," she said as her voice cracked again, her lip quivering. Arietta's heart lurched in her chest and the tears fell from her eyes. She squeezed Neri's trembling hands.

"I want you happy too," she said with a small sad smile. "But I don't know how to make that happen," she said with a wet sniff.

Neri gave her a watery smile. "It's not something you can do," she admitted. "I need Zevran and Anders, and… I need a  _break_."

Arietta let out a shaky sigh as she hung her head. She knew Neri wanted to go on holiday, travel and see the world. But part of her had hoped she'd stick around a little longer, especially with everything that had happened in Ferelden while they were away. It was going to be difficult sorting everything out, and Arietta always felt stronger with Neri at her side. But that was selfish. After everything the little elf had been through, she deserved a break, heck, she deserved to  _retire_.

"I know it's terrible timing," Neri began. "What with me needing to talk to the Architect about this potential Old God Child…"

"No," Arietta said, looking at her. "I understand." She swallowed thickly. "You deserve a break. Warden work can wait… and it won't if you come back to Ferelden with me. You'll get dragged into something." The realisation made her chest clench. "How – how long do you think you'll be away for?"

"I don't know," Neri admitted croakily. "Until I feel better," she said with a shaking laugh. She ran both her hands through her curly hair as she bit her lip.

"And if you never do?" Arietta whispered, fearing the answer.

Neri looked at her, ochre eyes glistening. "I'll still come back. There's too much left for us to do. I just  _can't_  face any of it right now. I'm at breaking point here," she said with a self-depreciating smile, her lips trembling.

"I'll miss you, Neri."

Neri sniffed hard and let out a burst of tearful laughter. "I'll miss you too."

Arietta smiled and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Will you stay in Kirkwall?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"I-"

Neri was about to reply when a man approached her wearing a small apologetic smile across his lips. He had a thick beard and one of those bushy moustaches that he had curled quite spectacularly at the edges. His eyes were a vibrant turquoise and they sparkled like the sea behind him. "I am sorry to interrupt, ladies," he said, still smiling. "But I couldn't help but overhear… Your name is Neri, as in Neri Surana?" he asked conversationally, those sparkling eyes holding her gaze rather sanguinely.

"Uhh…" Neri cleared her throat which was still rough from crying and glanced to Arietta, unsure if they were still hiding their identities; the human shrugged a shoulder, as she continued to try to clear up her puffy red face.

"It's only, I assume you are seeking passage, and I heard you mention Kirkwall? I happen to have a ship, one you might be familiar with," the man said with a twinkle in his eye. Neri's brow furrowed slightly; considering she had only been on the ferry she wasn't exactly  _familiar_  with any boats, now was she? " _The Merana,"_  the man practically purred out, his deep voice washing over her like a cool breeze.

"That's-"

"The ship Matthew Merton named for you and himself, yes." The man grinned and Neri stared at him, dumbfounded. "I am her captain and I would be honoured to take you wherever you need to go," he said sincerely, bowing slightly to them both. "You might also be interested to know that I recently took an acquaintance of yours across the seas, someone Matthew thought very highly of, I understand."

Neri's ears perked up at that and she looked at the captain expectantly. "Who?"

"I believe the elf's name was Zevran…"

Neri's breath hitched in her throat and she practically tripped over her tongue in her rush to get her questions out. "Where – where were you taking him?"

The man smiled softly. "I picked him up in Denerim, took him all the way to Dairsmuid in Rivain."

Neri's heart fluttered in her chest at his words and she clenched her hands at her side to stop them shaking from the adrenaline now crashing through her anew. "Can you recall how long ago this was?"

"Oh, a few months or so at least."

Neri turned away from the Captain, her head suddenly pounding and her breathing ragged. Zev  _had_  been in Ferelden, a mere city away from Amaranthine. She was right. She was  _fucking_  right. That blood mage, Zev… that  _night_. Something had  _happened!_  Pain lanced through her head and she punched the wall in front of her as she let out a frustrated cry.

Slowly, she turned around and slumped against the wall instead as she looked up at the concerned looking Captain. "Did he say why he needed to go there?" she asked with a defeated sigh.

"No, 'fraid not, lass," the Captain said with a sad shake of his head. "He had a lad with him though; young boy who seemed awfully excited all the time."

Neri nodded and stared down at the ground in front of her. All of her rage, anger and frustration was gone. She was simply left feeling lost and confused. She had spoken with Zev about Rivain on a few occasions. Isabela was from there and they had talked about visiting it. Neri had gushed to him about how fascinating the Circle in Dairsmuid was – the Rivaini Seers were supposed to be some of the best mages in Thedas.

If Zev knew  _anything_  about the blood mage, it was possible he would go there. But it was also just as possible that the blood mage was controlling  _him_  and sending him as far away from her as possible for some bullshit fucking reason. But all of that was assuming he'd even encountered the blood mage at all… he could have gone to Denerim, something could have come up – just as his letter said – and he could have left for Rivain shortly after. The fact that he was with a boy was certainly curious.

Neri ran her fingers through her hair, dragging her nails over her scalp. She hated not knowing what was going on, not having any fucking control. She needed some fucking answers. And the only way she was going to get those was by talking to the Architect.

"What are you going to do?" Arietta asked softly as she stroked Neri's hair, pushing down the strands Neri had just mussed up.

Neri sighed, shaking her head. "I…"

Anders was in Kirkwall, the  _City of Chains_ , not exactly the safest place in the world to be, but at least she  _knew_  he would stay put. Zev, however, could be anywhere by now. She could get all the way to Rivain, try to hunt down his trail only to find that he was now elsewhere, and all the while Anders would be waiting for her, expecting her to come get him. And considering how much trouble he'd gotten into while she was away, leaving him for a prolonged period of time didn't sound like the best idea. She didn't  _want_  to let him out of her sight ever again. Once she knew he was safe though, she would be able to head to the Deep Roads to find Velanna and then the Architect and hopefully get some answers at long last. Chasing after Zev, as much as she wanted to see him again, wasn't going to fix this mess they were all in.

 _So much for a fucking break,_  she thought ruefully. Hopefully  _she_  wouldn't break before fixing everything.

"I need to go to Kirkwall," she said resignedly, hating that she was choosing Anders over Zev.

"Easy enough; was heading back to Ostwick soon anyway," the Captain said with a smile.

"Thank you," Neri said as she bowed her head to him.

He grinned, twirling his moustache comically. "Say your goodbyes, lass,  _The Merana_  is docked a ways down there; you can't miss her," he said pointing. She nodded to him and watched him leave with a small smile. When she glanced back to Arietta the human was giving her a watery look.

"I guess this is goodbye, for now?"

Neri shifted her feet, dragging them across the hard stone as she nodded a little glumly. "Seems like it, yeah," she replied, glancing up at Arietta.

There was a quiet pause between them as they stood there staring at one another. It was going to be weird splitting up like this. No matter where Neri ended up, or for how long, they'd never really been apart before, not since they'd met, and after spending so long on the road with her, it was going to feel very strange not having her best friend at her side anymore.

"Will you be heading to Rivain after?" Arietta asked eventually, her hands clenched a little anxiously in front of her.

"No," Neri said with a slight wince. "If Zev wanted me to follow him, he would have given me an address. I can't help but think there is a reason, an  _important_  one, for him going there without discussing it with me," she said, giving Arietta a significant look. Ari caught on quick and nodded in understanding. "I have to trust that he knows what he's doing and that he'll come back to me eventually, because I doubt I'd be able to track him down in a city the size of Dairsmuid and that's assuming he's even still there. At least with Anders being in Kirkwall, I can hopefully hone in on the feel of his taint… Zev, on the other hand, is a shadow.

"But that's not the only reason. I told you I would get answers. That I would speak to the Architect. If Zev  _is_  in trouble, the best way for me to help him isn't by chasing him half way across the world, it's finding that fucking blood mage and wringing her bloody neck out." She shook her head, sighing. "I was being an idiot before. Taking a break now will never work, not with that blood mage, or whatever she is, stalking me and my friends. I can't ignore this. I can't put it on hold. Not now, not knowing Zev  _was_  in Ferelden, not knowing there's a chance she's fucked with him too." Her face hardened, her jaw set. "I'm going to end this. Once and for all. Then, when I have Anders  _and_  Zev back, I am settling the fuck down somewhere not shit."

Arietta looked worried for a brief moment, then her expression hardened and she nodded. "Alright. Whatever you need, I have your back." Barkspawn barked his agreement and Neri let out a small chuckle. "I can try to find out what Zev was doing in Denerim if that helps at-"

"No," Neri whispered. "I don't want you getting too involved in all of this. At most, I'll need you to arrange a meeting with Velanna for me. We'll need to be cautious still."

Arietta chewed on her lip contemplatively. "I'll let you make the calls on this, Neri, but  _please_  be careful."

Neri smirked. "The danger's half the fun."

Arietta rolled her eyes. "But being safe makes you live longer."

Neri let out a short derisive snort. "Don't think that applies to me, Ari," she said, making the human wince slightly, "but that's a problem for another day." She scratched Barkspawn behind his ear, smiling down at him. "I want you to go back to Ferelden with Ari, okay boy?" He whined at her, head tilting. "There isn't anyone I trust more to watch her back," she explained. "So you take good care of her, yeah?" He barked in agreement, his tail wagging. Neri grinned then looked back up at Arietta. "I won't be long. And if I  _am_  delayed, I'll write to you."

"Okay," Arietta said as she exhaled. They stared at each other a moment and then Arietta pulled her in for another hug. Neri melted into it, holding the human tightly. When Arietta pulled back a moment later, she held onto Neri's arms. "There's more. I know you don't plan to stay long in Kirkwall, but you'll still need to formally announce yourself to their Viscount."

"What, why?" Neri asked, frowning.

"Because there are formal proceedings to abide by and certain… etiquette you will need to follow."

"Can't I just… _not_?"

Arietta smiled in a motherly sort of way; it reminded Neri of Wynne's smiles, that sort of  _oh you_  look. "You could… but it would be rather insulting to the Free Marches if they found out you were in their city but never told a soul."

"But we just did exactly that in  _several_ countries," Neri groused, folding her arms petulantly.

"Yes, but we were working to a schedule and we were very, very careful," Arietta explained patiently, her eyes alit with fond amusement.

"And you're saying I'm not."

"Well…" she said, eyebrows arched teasingly.

Neri laughed ruefully. " _Fine_."

"You'll be representing mages, elves, the Grey Wardens and all of Ferelden, Neri."

Neri let out an exasperated groan. "No pressure, then."

Arietta slid her fingers into Neri's hair, caressing reassuringly as she leaned in a little. "You'll be fine, I hope," she said with a smirk. "Just try not to offend anyone  _too_  important."

Neri swatted Arietta's hand away, glaring at her. "Now you're just making me nervous!"

Arietta just laughed and Neri rubbed her face, sighing heavily.

"I'm sorry," Arietta finally said once she'd stopped laughing. "Neri, it'll be fine; you'll be fine."

She kept her eyes narrowed at the human, "Are you reassuring yourself or me?"

Arietta's face softened, her smile returning, "Both of us, I think."

Neri nodded a little wearily. "You'll check on the new College for me, right?"

"It will be my first stop after the Vigil," Arietta promised.

"Thanks." Neri smiled, then her eyes took on a dangerous glint. "What about the nobles?"

"I don't give second chances," Arietta said firmly. "If any are the same ones I dealt with before, they will die by my sword this time." Neri nodded, feeling a little better about not being around to help her friend deal with it all. She leant down and hugged Barkspawn goodbye, gripping his fur as she clung to him.

"Be a good boy," she whispered before pulling back and standing back up. He panted up at her, smiling and gave her a happy woof in reply.

She caught sight of Rafael and Max heading back toward them then, both of them looking like love-sick teens, arm in arm as they were, goofy smiles on their faces. It was adorable, but it made Neri ache for Zev and Anders.

"Ferry doesn't leave until tomorrow," Rafael explained. "We got us all rooms at The Diamond Lass again."

"I won't need one. I'm off," Neri announced.

"You found a ship heading for Kirkwall, then?" Max asked.

"Yeah and I best not keep her Captain waiting too long. I'll see you both whenever I get back," she said, with the biggest smile she could muster. She hugged them both tightly. "Enjoy your honeymoon – decided on a place yet?"

"No," Rafael sighed, sounding a little exasperated; despite that, he was smiling.

"It's  _important._  How many honeymoons are we likely to get in our lifetimes?"

"Depends how many people I end up marrying," Rafael replied dryly, hiding a smirk.

Max slapped him on the shoulder, letting out an insulted, if exaggerated, gasp. Neri took that moment to slink off, giving Arietta one final nod, which the human returned, before heading down the dock, smiling and shaking her head as Max and Raf continued to debate the importance of honeymoons.

She would have what they had. One day. She would  _fight_  for it. She knew where Anders was, knew roughly where Zev was too, and soon, she would know where the blood mage was, and then she would kill her, even if she had to fight fire with fire to do it. Because at this point, with only a limited amount of years left, there was nothing she wouldn't do in order to be able to enjoy her final years  _with_  Anders and Zev. And as she spotted  _The_   _Merana_ , she couldn't help but smile a little. That boat had been a gift of thanks to Matthew Merton. But it was also a symbol of hope; a promise that things would get better - that relationships would grow stronger between their two nations. That boat had miraculously carried Zev to Rivain and turned up the same day she reached Cumberland, with the same Captain, and now it was going to take her to Anders. She didn't often believe in fate. But this one time, she would allow herself to believe that maybe this was a sign that things would be okay. After all, Kirkwall couldn't be any crazier than the shit she'd seen in Ferelden, right?

* * *

 

The cavern was beautiful, in its odd way, with the glowing fungi that always seemed to grow at these depths lighting up the place in vibrant blues and purples. Anything was an improvement to complete darkness, however. She strolled across the ground, barefoot, feeling the slight tremble beneath her feet with a smile. It wouldn't be long now; she was sure of it.

She found the Architect leaning over a desk that the darkspawn had manufactured out of stone. She had to admit, they were getting more and more creative with each passing day. It was truly remarkable what they were capable of now that they were free from the Call; she had even caught an emissary  _drawing_  the other day.

The Architect heard her approach and straightened, turning to face her with a respectful dip of his head. "I know what you will ask," he rasped out wearily.

She arched a brow at him, placing her hand on her hip as she cocked it outwards. "Is that so?"

"You wish to know how much longer it will be."

"Getting predictable, am I? That just shows how  _slow_  you are being, dear," she said acerbically.

"We are being as cautious as is necessary," he explained patiently.

She rolled her eyes. "But how much  _longer_?"

"Not long," he admitted, turning to glance down at his plans once more. "We will be able to put your plan into place soon."

"Good. The pesky Crow is working hard to undermine my control, and the little elf knows too much by far already. She's a smart one, that. I can see why the darkspawn made from her blood are so much more intelligent than the others."

" _She_  has little to do with it," he countered giving her a pointed look.

"Yes, yes, so you have explained," she said flippantly. "How soon is soon?"

He glanced at her, his expression serious. "The next time Neria steps foot in the Deep Roads, we will take her," he said confidently, and a cat-like grin spread across her lips in response.  _At last_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, these always make me sad and liable to gush.
> 
> So, thanks first, I think. ElyssaCousland, my dear, you've been with me since the beginning, betaing your ass off for me. I honestly cannot thank you enough for all your hard work in making this story better than I could have ever hoped it to be. You are a true rock star.
> 
> I want to thank individual people for their reviewing/support but honestly, at this point, the list is so damned long that I don't think I'd ever get through it. So instead I will just say a huge thanks to everyone who has read this, who's told me their thoughts, who's screamed at me for the angst or cliffhangers, who went off to read the smut side story, who reviewed every damned chapter, all 70, to those I've talked to and befriended, to those that have made me smile and laugh and have kept me going whenever I felt like giving up. **THANK YOU**.
> 
> As is tradition, I am going to beg for reviews one final time (on this story at least ;p). Got feelings you want to shout at me? Go ahead. Got questions you want answered? By all means ask them. It's the _finale_ , come celebrate with me!
> 
> And the future... Hawke's story has already begun in _The Sacrifices We Make: Answers We Seek_. And Anders and Neri will be joining him soon. Their roles in the storyline of DA2 are **not** small. It is NOT a cameo. Answers We Seek will be as much about Neri as it is Hawke, once she's there. It is literally a continuation of her story, it just happened to have slammed right into Hawke's. With her return, you will also see Zev again, and then Arietta/Alistair and the other Wardens. Even the talking darkspawn will return. So I urge you all to come read it if you want answers about all of the plot threads I've deliberately left hanging here.
> 
> I think that's all I wanted to say. So yeah. Thank you all! Leave a review, then come join me on the sequel, yeah? I'm about to post chapter 2 of that - Varric's entrance.
> 
> Lots of love, 
> 
> Chant.


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